23 Cannons: The 69th Annual Hunger Games
by pochapal
Summary: For 69 years, the citizens of Panem have watched the Hunger Games; a brutal sporting event that involves one boy and girl from each of the 12 districts fighting to the death until one remains. This year is the last Games of the 6th decade, and the dedicated team of Gamemakers is determined to make this a Hunger Games that won't be soon forgotten.
1. The Final Stage

**A/N: Hello there! If you are reading this, then you have stumbled across the final story in my SYOT Hunger Games series (66th, Surprises, and this). As you can see, it won't start just yet, due to me still having to beg for tributes. XD**

**And now, we have the final cast! Be prepared for the first reaping as soon as I have finished the Games in Surprises.**

**May the odds be ever in the tributes' favour...**

* * *

Success. That was all Dew knew; all she cared about; all she saw. Three years of pure success as head Gamemaker had risen her ego astoundingly. And especially after last year's success with the sixty eighth Hunger Games, that was all that existed. The victor was so perfect, it caught her by surprise, not like that small girl that won during her first year as head Gamemaker. No, last year's Hunger Games was so perfect, that the entertainment factor rivalled that of the Quarter Quells- a difficult feat indeed.

So, after floating in an egotistical bubble of fame, fortune, and success, Dew had never anticipated the call from President Coriolanus Snow. Eight words had completely caused her world to crash and burn, and no matter what she would be able to do, it was inevitable what was going to happen.

"_This will be your last year as Gamemaker."_

Snow's voice in her head caused a chill to run up the red haired woman's spine, followed by the familiar bristling of rage. Why should _she_ have to leave?! She was perfect; every year there had been zero rebellious comments from any of the tributes. But apparently, her face was becoming redundant in the Capitol's magazines. What did it matter, she was the freaking head Gamemaker! She was more at home in a control room full of countless cameras and models of the arena, not being bombarded by the press. That job went to the tributes, and even more so with the victors.

Returning to reality, Dew stood up from her office; the place was essentially her second home, and walked towards the door, clutching a diamond encrusted binder full of every last delightful detail for the sixty ninth Hunger Games, down to the placement of each blade of grass. She was ready, even more than last year, and was entirely certain that it would go down wonderfully with the Capitol.

Dew punched a combination of buttons into the door, and it swung open, revealing a sandy haired young woman with alert green eyes; an avox. They were filthy creatures; citizens that defected from the perfection that was the Capitol and had their ability to speak removed as a result. In Dew's eyes, they didn't deserve to live at all. After all, what sane person would go against the _Capitol_? It was unheard of; the Capitol was too perfect to be hated by anyone, even the scum that littered the twelve districts.

She stepped inside the elevator, and glared at the avox, who nervously gulped.

"Top floor, the Rose Garden. Now!" She barked, and the avox blinked away tears, before pressing three adjacent buttons. They lit up, and Dew felt the subtle shift in gravity as the shining steel box shot skywards. She closed her eyes, and focused on the slight hum of the elevator that caused vibrations to shudder throughout the enclosed space.

Eventually, the vibrations stopped, and the elevator came to a halt; they had finally reached the top floor. The pristine doors slid open, and Dew skimmed over her files once more, before stepping out, glaring daggers at the avox as the doors slid shut, the elevator disappearing back down to the lower floors. Immediately, the warm summer breeze whipped around the Gamemaker, carrying the delightful scent that was always abundant on the top floor of the mansion.

Roses. The sweet scented flowers lined endless rows of bushes that went on, and on, and on, for as far as Dew could see. Green mixed with red and white in a breathtaking array of flora, the colours almost distracting the head Gamemaker from her purpose of being up there.

Taking in the scent of the Rose Garden once more, Dew set off down one of the narrow, spindly paths, walking over the patterned tile floor. It actually told the story of Panem, if you followed the right path. It started out with the United States of America; a large, major country that influenced the majority of the planet. That path was full of hope and inspiration. But then, it began to take a darker turn. The hopeful vision of the USA was quickly swallowed by torrential rain and surging tidal waves that devastated the coastlines, killing millions. That was followed by earthquakes that completely reshaped the topography of the country, killing even more people, then a near total crop failure, plunging the survivors into a famine like no other. But there were still pockets of fertile land that produced bountiful foods, and this caused the biggest disaster of all.

War. A full scale war broke out between the population, decimating nearly all of civilisation, bringing mankind onto the brink of total extinction. But then, out of the ashes and bodies, rose a group of nameless people. They had the idea and goal of uniting the country as one, eliminating all traces of the failures brought on by America. They succeeded, and managed to create a country equally split into thirteen districts, with a city that was separate from the rest; the Capitol. Its name: Panem.

All went fine for Panem, until the district citizens turned nasty. They started out by complaining that they weren't getting paid enough for the work they were doing. So of course, the gracious Capitol provided the hard workers with pay rises. But they still weren't happy. They staged public protests, whilst starting small with a handful of people, that eventually became district-wide, and then, uprisings. The citizens freely destroyed their mines, their plantations, their factories and refineries, and their fields, all in the name of freedom; they weren't oppressed to begin with.

But it didn't stop there. The uprisings evolved into a full-scale rebellion against the Capitol, led by District 13; it's specialty being nuclear weaponry. For fear of a repeat of America, the Capitol launched a counter attack, completely levelling District 13 to nothing more than a smoking pile of rubble. Without their leader, the other twelve districts surrendered, and new law enforcement officers, known as Peacekeepers, were introduced into the system. But they were soon back up to their old tricks, and another rebellion was imminent. The Capitol needed a solution, something that would break the rebellious spirits of the citizens. And that was where the Hunger Games came from; every year, each district was to offer up two children, one male, one female, between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to the Capitol as a sign of repentance. The twenty four 'tributes' were then sent into an arena, where they were to battle to the death until only one remained. This sole victor was to be bathed in riches for the rest of their life, as a sign that the Capitol still cared about the welfare of the districts.

Fast forward sixty nine years, and the unique tapestry ended with head Gamemaker Dew, who had reached the inner centre of the Rose Garden; a circle of individually crafted mahogany benches, surrounding a crystal water fountain, the crisp clear liquid trickling and splashing into the bowl that surrounded the fountain. And sat on one of the benches was Coriolanus Snow, the current president of Panem, being in power for forty years exactly. He was currently staring into the water, taking slow, deliberate, sips from his glass of wine; the whole scene made an unquenchable thirst creep into Dew's system. She cleared her throat, and spoke up, wiping the few beads of sweat from her dyed brown forehead.

"Um, Mr President."

"Ah, head Gamemaker Dew. How pleasant it is to see you." Snow said warmly, a wide smile on his face. But the rest of his body language was anything but warm and welcoming. He had an aura that was chilling to the bone, like an icy serpent that had Dew paralysed by its glare alone. "I trust you have all the files for this year's Games."

"Right here, sir." Dew moved her gaze to the binder for a brief moment, before returning her attention to Snow. He glanced at the bench, and began to motion for her to sit with him. Obliging, Dew crossed the president's private sanctuary, and sat down on the bench, a butterfly landing on her hand. She watched inquisitively as the brightly coloured insect crawled around her hand, before fluttering its bright red wings, the same shade as her hair, with a beautiful diamond blue pattern on the avian appendages. It almost seemed to look up at her for a moment, before leaping off her hand, and flying into the afternoon sunlight.

"So Dew," Snow began, taking another sip of his chalice, a loose droplet dripping off the crystal container and onto the ground, "Since this is your last year as Gamemaker, I'm expecting something bigger and better than last year. Which I trust you have planned, since the Capitol fell in love with the showdown between the three tributes at the volcano. Your timing of the eruption was perfect, killing them all instantly. I found it very, how do I say it, _entertaining_. Now, I hope you're more than a one trick pony, and can end your career on a good note, unlike our late friend Pyrus." Dew nodded enthusiastically, and handed over the arena details.

"How is it, sir?" She questioned as she resisted the urge to bite her nails due to her nerves. Instead of the worst case scenario, she watched as a genuine smile blossomed on Snow's face.

"Excellent, excellent. Dew, I think you've managed to outdo yourself." Snow said lightly, handing back the arena details, "Now, one last thing. I need to see the list of tributes that will be fighting it out in this spectacular arena."

"Of course, sir." Dew replied, pulling out a smaller file, full of images of names and faces: the tribute list.

Snow eagerly grabbed it, and skimmed it over, drinking in every last tribute's name that would enter the sixty ninth annual Hunger Games.

_**Sixty Ninth Annual Hunger Games**_

_**Tribute List**_

_**District 1 (Luxury)**_

_**Male tribute: Osiris Garnet (17)**_

_**Female tribute: Topaz Doublet (18)**_

_**District 2 (Masonry)**_

_**Male tribute: Dylan Spelunk (18)**_

_**Female tribute: Kylee Harker (18)**_

_**District 3 (Technology)**_

_**Male tribute: Xander Bradley (15)**_

_**Female tribute: Rosaline Weathers (18)**_

_**District 4 (Fishing)**_

_**Male tribute: Ren Zanda (15)**_

_**Female tribute: Annabell Reeves (14)**_

_**District 5 (Power)**_

_**Male tribute: Markus Lucian (18)**_

_**Female tribute: Alexis Rays (16)**_

_**District 6 (Transportation)**_

_**Male tribute: Mason Irizarri (13)**_

_**Female tribute: Salvera Combe (17)**_

_**District 7 (Lumber)**_

_**Male tribute: Brinn Redwood (15)**_

_**Female tribute: Rosa Milne (14)**_

_**District 8 (Textiles)**_

_**Male tribute: Kaye Nylon (18)**_

_**Female tribute: Emily Horwitz (16)**_

_**District 9 (Grain)**_

_**Male tribute: Griffin Fairbain (12) **_

_**Female tribute: Dixie Semming (17) **_

_**District 10 (Livestock)**_

_**Male tribute: Tavish Longhorn (12)**_

_**Female tribute: Erika Jersey (16)**_

_**District 11 (Agriculture)**_

_**Male tribute: Liam Aldair (18)**_

_**Female tribute: Lucy Caspian (14)**_

_**District 12 (Mining)**_

_**Male tribute: Derek Lemoine (14)**_

_**Female tribute: Gwen Levine (17)**_

"Perfect." Snow mused, finishing the last of his wine. "This looks like an even better set than last year- exactly what we need." He handed the files back to Dew, who carefully placed them in her binder.

"Yes, and after seeing their reapings, I feel that this will be a very interesting Hunger Games indeed."

"Exactly, Dew. Now, let's see just _how _memorable you will make your final Hunger Games."


	2. Osiris Garnet- Taking the Chance

**District 1:**

**Osiris Garnet (Male Tribute, 17)**

The first signs of the early morning sun began to creep out from the horizon, bathing the streets of District 1 in a warm, golden glow. But the early sunrise meant that the streets were still empty. Empty, bar one person.

He ran through the streets, wiping sweat from his brow, and pushing his dirty blonde hair from his forehead. He continually tugged at his loose fitting sleeveless shirt, cooling his body. He wanted to stop, but he couldn't. Since after today, he would be famous, his name called throughout Panem. Osiris Garnet, District 1 tribute.

Osiris turned the corner of the street, causing a flock of birds to be startled, and fly away into the early morning sun. Their grey wings were highlighted by the golden rays, the light fluttering sound reaching Osiris' ears. It was only in the early morning that he could truly appreciate the beauty of District 1. The rest of the day he was too occupied by the constant pressures of Career training. He was still thankful that he had finally managed to be allowed these early morning runs.

The only reason that Osiris was able to go out on these runs was due to the fact that his uncle, who was also his trainer, had witnessed last year's male tribute from 1, Ebony Amaranth, get decapitated by the crazed boy from District 10. Ignoring the fact that Ebony was probably riddled with mortal wounds, Osiris' uncle was convinced it was due to the fact that Ebony wasn't quick enough. Either way, Ebony was dead, and that death had conveniently allowed Osiris some freedom.

It wasn't that Osiris particularly hated training, it was more that that was the only thing he did; he lived, ate, and breathed training. It was all due to his late father, who had conceived Osiris when he was only eighteen, and was supposed to go into the Games. Osiris was born the same day that his father was killed in the Games. But during the goodbyes, Osiris' father had asked his brother, Osiris' uncle, that in the event of his death in the arena, that Osiris was to be trained to be a tribute. Osiris' uncle had won the Games the year before Osiris was born, so he had access to the best training facilities in the district, and from age ten onwards, Osiris had been trained. And this year, he was deemed ready to be the male tribute, along with another girl, who had been particularly close to Ebony. Her name had slipped Osiris' mind for the moment, though, but he would know about it by the end of the day.

The ground below Osiris changed from smooth concrete, to rough cobble as he ran down a hill. The sunlight was reflecting off the windows of the houses that lined the streets, and Osiris could hear the first signs of people waking up. After all, everyone had to rise early today; it was the day of the reaping, and nobody could afford to miss it without serious repercussions, ranging from imprisonment, to a public whipping, to even execution. But that usually never happened in District 1, since they were all on good terms with the Capitol, and rebellion was out of the question.

Osiris reached the bottom of the hill, and once more ran on flat ground. He was now in the central plaza of District 1; the justice building adorned with decorations and a shining wooden stage. The two reaping bowls were already there, and were full. Only seven of the paper slips in the males' ball contained the name Osiris Garnet printed in neat handwriting, but the reaping bowl was a matter of aesthetics. For the past thirty years, the tributes from District 1 had all been volunteers, and this year would be no exception to the rule. Although Career training was technically illegal, the Capitol indirectly supported it; it made for some very interesting fights in the arena.

Osiris ran through the plaza, looking as two Peacekeepers guarded the doors to the justice building. Of course, the Capitol workers had arrived late last night, and had to stay in the district until the reaping, before returning back to the Capitol with the tributes. It was all for their protection, even though District 1 would never treat the escort with a hostile attitude. Ignoring it, Osiris ran through to the other side of the plaza, and up the paved hill, the steep angle of the sloping path causing him to have to exert even more energy. But he still wasn't exhausted, and he couldn't be if he had any chance of surviving in the Games.

Reaching the top of the hill, Osiris ran down the road, noticing as the houses improved in quality, and the wall surrounding the Victor's Village drew closer. Already he could hear people celebrating, and a sly smile crept onto his face. If everything played out alright in the arena, they would be cheering for him. Osiris even heard one house playing music; someone was proficient with a piano from the sounds of it. He picked up his running pace, and sped towards the large grey wall that separated the Victor's Village from the rest of the district. It was essentially the only form of segregation that occurred in District 1, but then again, the victors of the Hunger Games had earned their place in that village.

Osiris slowed down as he reached the grass that grew on either side of the road leading into the Victor's Village. There was a gap in the wall, where a computer operated metallic gate sat. Just outside of the wall was a guard post, where a Peacekeeper sat. It was Grayson, the Peacekeeper who had been here since Osiris was a child. His niece, Ariella, was selected to compete last year, but didn't come home alive. Straight after the Games ended, Grayson's brother was publicly executed in District 2, after making a drunken bet to be killed if Ariella died. Apparently he had not attended the reaping, and the laws in 2 were tighter than in 1, so he was to be executed.

"Hey, Grayson," Osiris said warmly to the Peacekeeper as he walked up to the guard post. "How're you?"

"I'm fine," Grayson replied wearily, his arm resting on the flat panel of the post. Osiris could clearly see a wristband on Grayson's arm, with a key on it. It was Ariella's district token, which seemed to represent something, but the girl never let onto what it was during her time in the Games, but Grayson still held it dear to him, "I'm guessing you want to get into the Victor's Village?"

"You know it." Osiris said with a smile. "So, can you do me the honour?" Grayson let out a hearty chuckle, before nodding, and pressing a button the control panel on the wall. A beep sounded out, and the gate slowly slid open with a metallic creak.

"There you are," Grayson said happily, "And good luck at the reaping; I hope nobody takes your spot as tribute."

"Don't worry about that." Osiris called out as he ran through the open gate, and into the Victor's Village.

The gate closed behind him, and Osiris looked over the housing settlement. There were at least fifty mansions, all bathed in the early morning sunlight. Only about thirty were filled, but that was due to several of the victors being claimed by old age. Osiris' house was a little further down the first street, and was distinguishable by the shaped hedges. The Capitol had decided that his uncle was going to carve hedges into various shapes, and of course, he couldn't exactly refuse.

Taking a deep breath, Osiris ran down the street, moving past a crack in the path, and turning up to the front yard of his house. He walked along the light grey path, careful to avoid the perfectly tended grass either side of him; his uncle would kill him straight away, regardless of whether or not Osiris was victor material. A bird cried out, and Osiris flinched, thinking for a moment that it was his uncle yelling at him for stepping on the grass. He nervously looked around, and only saw a mockingjay flying out from a bush, flying across the Victor's Village, landing on the roof of another mansion; the Amaranth residence. The family of victors hadn't shown their faces since Ebony's death, overcome with shame that Ebony broke the tradition that had been going strong. Osiris found people like that silly; sure, honour and glory were part of Career tradition, but wanting a whole family to win every last time was a little overboard. After all, it wasn't guaranteed that every new child would take as much of an interest in the Games. And that was where Ebony went wrong. He was too focused on continuing his family's legacy than actual survival; he had never taken the idea of dying into consideration. But that didn't matter any more. Ebony was dead, and Osiris was going into the arena, and do everything that Ebony did wrong right.

Osiris walked up the neat path, reaching the porch of his house. It offered some shade from the morning sunlight, but it could be larger; it only really shaded one person. But Osiris wasn't going to be out in the sun all day today, so it wasn't important. He reached a hand out, and grabbed the handle of the front door on his house. As he did so, he felt a tingle of excitement. It was about eight in the morning, which meant that the reaping was in four hours. Not long until he was the face of Panem, and people would be cheering his name. Grinning at the thought, Osiris pressed down on the door handle, opening the door, and entered his home.

The front hallway of Osiris' house was rather narrow, but with a high ceiling. The walls were coated in a dark wallpaper, and a large chandelier hung from the roof, adorned with crystals that flickered in the sunlight. Every inch of the mansion was pristine, and Osiris walked along the shining black and white checked floor, his running shoes squeaking on the surface.

Almost straight away, the door at the end of the hall opened, and Osiris' uncle walked out. He was a tall man, with well kempt grey hair, and a sharp nose. He also had piercing blue eyes, in contrast to Osiris' bright green ones. Osiris' uncle's eyes were also wise, brimming with experience, whilst Osiris' were full of innocence and naivety. He hated how it gave away the fact that he hadn't killed anyone; the majority of victors from 1 had killed at least one person before they were reaped. He hadn't, though, and could only hope that his district partner, whoever she would be, didn't know about that.

"Good morning, uncle." Osiris said curtly, lowering his head in respect. Despite the fact that he had pretty much dominated his life with training, Osiris' uncle was a damn good trainer. After all, only an expert would train a Career to the point where they would be selected as a tribute on their first try.

"Osiris," His uncle replied, looking at him with those piercing blue eyes. They sent chills down Osiris' spine, "I trust that you have sufficiently performed your training?" He was referring to the running, but looked at it in a different light than Osiris did.

"Yes, I have," Osiris said, "And the reaping stage is set up as well, so the entire district is ready."

"Excellent." His uncle replied, a ghost of a smile appearing on his normally stern face. "I have also selected your reaping outfit for today. Shower and change, then come down here for some breakfast."

"Okay." Osiris said in response, nodding at his uncle, before walking along the hallway, to the large staircase.

The staircase was made of a rich wood that was full of little carvings in the wood, creating beautiful patterns that reached up to the top. Osiris ascended the stairs, each step creaking under his weight. He wasn't fat; far from it, but the stairs were old, the house having been built during the course of the first Hunger Games, which surprisingly enough, had no record of being filmed. It was an odd thing, considering the fact that it essentially defined the entirety of the Games. But then again, it was the first, and a number of things probably went wrong. The major point being that every last tribute was supposedly related to a rebel leader in some way, and that meant that they probably nearly outsmarted the Capitol. But that was a thing of the past, and Osiris needed to be focusing on the present. But today, the past felt like it was creeping up on him, clouding his thoughts.

Trying to ignore it, Osiris picked up his pace, reaching the top of the stairs. The landing was decorated with a lush red carpet, and the walls were full of portraits of the Garnet family, going all the way back to the old world, before the founding of Panem and the districts. The Garnet family tree was a long one, and Osiris was proud to be part of it. Every last member had been strong, and had made their mark in some way. Even Osiris' late parents; his father had placed second in his Games, before falling to the boy from 4. But he had managed to make the most kills in the Games; thirteen deaths were at his hand. And Osiris' mother, who had died during the childbirth, was well known in the Capitol for her perfect jewellery that she crafted every day of her life, even up to her last day. They still sold for a small fortune, even for the filthy rich Capitol citizens' standards.

And the last member of the family list was Osiris himself. If all went well, he would be known as the victor of the sixty ninth annual Hunger Games, and become a celebrity to the world. It would be hard work, but it was achievable. And the rewards would be worth the potential trauma of witnessing nearly a quarter of a hundred deaths over the course of a short time period.

Osiris continued down the hallway, stopping at the door on the right hand side next to the end of the hallway. He pushed the door open, and stepped inside, closing it behind him, entering his bedroom. It was quite large, with a king sized bed, a large closet, and an ensuite bathroom, complete with a shower; one of the benefits of living in the Victor's Village. Walking over to his bed, Osiris sat on it, and pulled his running shoes off, placing them under his bed, like he always did when he didn't wear them. He then walked over to the other side of his room, to the laundry basket, and pulled off the rest of his clothing, placing them in there. Once done, Osiris walked across his room again, this time towards the bathroom.

He opened the door, and walked inside the bathroom. It was quite small, only containing a shower and sink, but it had working hot and cold water, which was more than most citizens of District 1 had. Osiris walked over to the shower, and stepped inside, turning it on. A warm stream of water cascaded over his sweaty body, and he remained like this for about ten minutes, thoroughly washing himself. Finally, he finished showering, and stepped out, grabbing a blue towel from the rack just outside of the shower, wrapping it around his body. The fabric of the towel was warm, and absorbed the water off of his wet body.

Osiris walked out of the bathroom, and back into his bedroom. The sun was now shining clearly through his window, warming the room up considerably. He dropped the towel to the floor, and walked over to his bed. On it sat a button up white shirt, a tie, and dress pants, along with formal shoes. The reaping outfit that his uncle had selected was perfectly suitable to the occasion. Osiris grabbed the outfit, and didn't waste a second in putting it on, and after making sure that it was on comfortably, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror on the wall.

The outfit went with his natural appearance perfectly; he was fairly tall, with broad shoulders and a wide chest. His skin was slightly sun-kissed from countless hours of training in the daylight. Despite this powerful appearance, his face was rather handsome; with a small nose, a mouth that curled into a smile naturally, and a slightly prominent jawline. It made him look mature, but with a slightly boyish quality that the Capitol was sure to lap up.

"Do I look good, or what?" Osiris said to his reflection, before heading the sound of the oven humming.

"Osiris, food!" Osiris heard his uncle call, and quickly ran out of his room. He rushed down the hallway, past the portraits, slid down the stairs, and slowed when he reached the main hallway.

Walking now, Osiris took the first door to his left, and the smell of fresh bacon reached his nose. He inhaled deeply at the aroma, and walked over to the table, sitting down.

"Thanks for this outfit." Osiris said idly, watching as his uncle prepared a plate full of bacon and toast. Even though this meal wasn't out of the ordinary, it still seemed to be more delicious than usual.

"Of course," His uncle replied, "I would only pick out the best for the potential tribute." He then walked over to the table, and handed Osiris the food.

"Thank you." Osiris said politely, smiling softly as he bit down into the toast. It burst with flavour, and within minutes, he had wolfed down the entire meal. This caused his uncle to let out a chuckle; a rare occurrence indeed.

"Seems that you were quite hungry." His uncle said, taking the plate away. For a moment, Osiris considered seconds, but realised that he had to get used to being without food. There was no guarantee that there would be much food in the Games.

"I was," Osiris replied, "But I'm satisfied now. Thank you."

Whilst his uncle washed the plate, Osiris glanced up at the clock on the wall. It was eleven now, which meant that there was only an hour to go until the reaping began. His uncle also noticed this, and put the plate away, buttoning up his jacket.

"Osiris," He began "It's time to go. I'll see you in the justice building after the reaping is over, and then when you come home again."

"So does this mean-" Osiris began, but was cut off by his uncle.

"Yes. It means that I will not be your mentor. Instead, you will have Cris Amaranth, and Allure Lavish." Slightly crestfallen at this, Osiris nodded, standing up.

"Alright then." He said, and began to walk out of the room, "I'll see you later."

"Be sure to volunteer first," Osiris' uncle said, but Osiris was already gone, and was out of the front door of the mansion.

Osiris let out a sigh as he walked down the street. He hated having to act so formal around his uncle, but it showed his respect. At least from tomorrow, he'd be pretty much free to be himself, which meant having to deal with his lack of combat experience.

Pushing the thoughts aside, Osiris picked up his pace to a jog, and made his way to the front gate. It was already open, and he walked out of it, smiling and nodding at Grayson. Maybe this year Grayson would see someone he knew come home still breathing. Leaving Grayson, Osiris walked down the street, passing by a girl with brown hair, and wearing a blue dress. She looked quite elegant, but he had no time to look over her. He had to get to the central plaza, to ensure his position as tribute.

As the street became a slope, Osiris found himself running once more, focusing on the road below him, making sure to not trip. He was so caught up in this, that he didn't notice the line in front of him, and crashed into another boy.

"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!" He snapped, glaring at Osiris. He had jet black hair, and blue eyes, with a large nose, and a massive frame. He was quite clearly older than Osiris, and looked like a Career in training. Probably one who was knocked out of the qualification tournament early, and was still going to try and volunteer. But from the looks of it, he was pretty slow, so Osiris should be able to reach it before he did.

"Oh, sorry about that." Osiris said, looking directly at the older boy, not showing any weakness.

"Hey, I saw you in the training centre last month," The older boy said as the queue moved forwards, bringing them closer to the potential tribute pens, separated by age, and gender. "Didn't you enter the tournament?"

"Yeah," Osiris said to him, still not breaking his gaze. "How'd you do?"

"Some punk got damn lucky," He replied, pointing to his left eye. Osiris saw a deep wound, "And managed to nearly take my eye out with a freakin' katana." Oh, he was the guy who lost to Osiris' final opponent; Sterling Diamond. Sterling was a powerful Career, who was swift and strong, but lacked in intuition, leading Osiris to perform a deceptive final blow. Sterling was hospitalised for two weeks after that.

"Next." They both hear a voice, and looked to see a Peacekeeper sitting at a desk with a device. He spoke with a Capitol accent, but it was weaker than the escort's, so they could still understand him.

"Oh," The older boy said, and walked up to the desk, getting his finger pricked. His name and age flashed up on the screen, and he moved on.

"Next," The Peacekeeper said, and Osiris moved up to him, sticking his hand out. The device pricked his finger, and the screen flashed up.

**GARNET, OSIRIS**

**MALE**

**AGE 17**

"You may go through." The Peacekeeper said, and Osiris walked into the central plaza, joining up with the seventeen year old males. For about half an hour, more and more people filed in, and Osiris saw his uncle take a seat on the stage, looking out at the crowd; looking at him.

Finally, the last person signed in, and silence descended upon the crowd as the escort took centre stage. She was once again dressed in a bizarre outfit, this time being a rainbow cow. It was extremely surreal, to say the least.

"Welcome, welcome, _welcome!_" She trilled in her thick Capitol accent, "Welcome to the District One reaping for the Sixty Ninth annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" The crowd burst into applause, and Osiris joined in. After all, this was a celebration. "Now, before we can meet our courageous young man and woman, we have a little video to watch!" She clapped, before performing a hand gesture. Osiris heard several groans as the video began to play. This was the only unexciting part of the Games; watching a video that was just President Snow talking over footage of the Dark Days rebellion.

Finally, the video stopped, and the crowd applauded once more, before the escort returned to the podium.

"Now, wasn't that truly _inspiring?_" Osiris didn't think so, but perhaps the Capitol watched things like that religiously. "Now, onto the event!"

Cheering began to burst from the crowd as she tottered over to the glass ball on the right of the stage.

"Who's it gonna be this year?" Osiris heard someone behind him whisper.

"That mad girl." Another replied, and Osiris realised they were talking about this year's girl.

"Ladies first!" The escort squealed, reading a name from the bowl. Nobody listened, and the girl didn't step forward, since straight away, another girl burst from the crowd.

"I volunteer as tribute!" She boldly exclaimed, and the girls' crowd parted as she stepped forward, a sea of applauding girls surrounding her. She had long brown hair, and a flowing blue dress. It was then that Osiris realised that she was the girl from earlier.

She walked up to the stage, and climbed the stairs, the escort clapping and cheering.

"Excellent!" She cried out, "And what is your name?"

"Topaz," The girl said to the crowd, "Topaz Doublet." Topaz Doublet. That was the name of Osiris' district partner, and she seemed to be radiating strength. The crowd exploded into a mass of cheering, and it took a Peacekeeper firing a stray shot from her gun into the air to bring the crowd to order.

"Now that we've calmed down," The escort said, walking past Topaz, "It's time to find out who our lucky young man will be!" The crowd seemed to all collectively hold its breath as the name was called. But yet again, the young man didn't emerge from the crowd.

Now. This was it. Without any hesitation, Osiris ran through the crowd, and was about to announce his name, when another voice cried out.

"I vounteer as tribute!" Osiris turned his head to see the larger boy from before tearing through the crowd, running at the stage. Oh no. This wasn't good.

"No!" Osiris cried out, and pushed past the males surrounding him, earning him some vulgar complaints, but he didn't care. He couldn't let this guy take his chance from him! "I volunteer!"

"Like hell you will!" The older boy spat, breaking out of the crowd first, running down the clearing in the middle of the two crowds. Osiris shoved harder, and also pushed out, hitting the stone floor. But the older boy was ahead of him, and closer to the stage. It would be a race to see who would be able to get there first.

Osiris began to sprint. Only this wasn't his usual run, this was him working at full speed. He drew closer to the older boy, and lifted his arm, before delivering a powerful punch to the boy's head. He let out a grunt, and collapsed to the floor. Osiris leapt over him, before slowing down. He had reduced his pace to walking as he reched the steps, and wiped the layer of sweat from his brow, climbing onto the stage.

"How exciting!" The escort cried out, cheering, "And what is your name?"

"Osiris Garnet." Osiris replied confidently. The crowd went wild. After a few minutes, they settled down again, and the escort took the microphone.

"Well, there you have it! Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the sixy ninth annual Hunger Games! Osiris Garnet and Topaz Doublet!" Another round of applause, before the escort made them both shake hands. Osiris barely had a moment to look at Topaz, before Peacekeepers grabbed them, and herded them to the justice building.

Osiris sat in the small room, absently tracing the patterns on the plush red sofa. The Peacekeepers had just thrown him in there unceremoniously, before moving on.

"Way to treat a potential victor." Osiris mumbled under his breath, letting out a disgruntled sigh. They were unnecessarily harsh on him, but what could he do. It wasn't going to affect his odds, so it wasn't worth fretting over.

Suddenly, the door on the other end of the room opened with a creak, and Osiris' uncle came in, looking relieved.

"Well, you did it." He said, holding his hand out. Osiris stuck his own hand out, and they both shook hands, "Congratulations on becoming this year's tribute."

"Thank you," Osiris replied, being careful to retain his manners, "But we still have a long way to go before victory is mine."

"You are right," His uncle said, pulling his hand away. "Good luck, and I hope to see you come back home soon enough.

"Thank you," Osiris said, and watched as his uncle flashed one more smile, before walking out of the room, leaving him alone.

It had begun. Osiris Garnet was now the male tribute for District 1 in this year's Hunger Games.

And he could only hope that the odds would be in his favour.


	3. Topaz Doublet- Carrying Memories

**District 1:**

**Topaz Doublet (Female Tribute, 18)**

Topaz sat in the corner of her room, the morning sun attempting to shine in through her window, but the pitch black curtain denied the light reaching her. It helped to remind her how there was never any light in life; it was all a lie. She realised this fact just under a year ago, when she watched the person closest to her leave her. And after he had told her that he would return home. When Ebony Amaranth died in the arena, part of Topaz died with him.

Even now, she couldn't believe it. They were outliers; freaking _outliers_! A girl from District 12, and a boy from District 10, of all places. They were supposed to be bloodbath-fodder, but the Gamemakers had to go and rig the Cornucopia with mines, blowing the girl from 4 to pieces, allowing several tributes to escape in the chaos.

But that was all in the past, and Topaz needed to focus on the present. Ebony was dead, and the girl from District 5 won the Games. There was no changing that fact, and she had to move on. Especially since today was reaping day, and she had been selected to be tribute. Although, after what happened in the final match of the tribute tournament, Topaz was still surprised that she wasn't imprisoned.

_"Now, let the match between Sapphire Luxe and Topaz Doublet to decide the female tribute for this year's Hunger Games begin!" The referee boomed out through the microphone, and the two girls stepped into the ring._

_Topaz took slow and deliberate breaths. She had to keep her cool for this, since Sapphire was highly dangerous. The only time that she lost a match was last year, to the late Emerald Glitters, who was the predicted tribute._

_Suddenly, Sapphire ran forward, armed with her throwing knife. Topaz leapt out of the way as the younger girl launched the silver bladed weapon at her, and prepared her sword. It wasn't as swift to use as the knives, but it packed more of a punch._

_Sapphire lunged again, this time managing to punch Topaz in the face. She reeled in pain, and felt the blood pouring down her face from her nose. Oh, it was on. Focusing only on Sapphire, Topaz gripped onto the silver handle of her sword, and steadied herself as Sapphire came closer._

_Then, without any sign of warning, Topaz leapt up, and brought her sword down. She caught Sapphire's arm, and heard the younger girl scream in pain. Topaz noticed the blade of her sword was now a deep red, and that Sapphire was grunting in pain._

_"Hey, do you really want to go on?" Topaz questioned sincerely, "Since if we're not careful, this injury could mess up your potential chances in the Games, should you qualify."_

_"Shut it!" Sapphire replied in response. This reaction had completely caught Topaz off guard. "I don't care how injured I get; I will beat you!" Well, that answered the question._

_Sapphire clenched her teeth, and brought out her dagger, circling Topaz viciously. It was now apparent that Sapphire was going to fight until the bitter end, even at the risk of permanent damage. No wonder she had managed to make it to the finals this year. But Topaz still felt uncomfortable about causing severe damage to the young girl; it just wasn't right. They weren't in the Games, so there was no need to go all out in the battle, but Sapphire quite clearly didn't get the message._

_Topaz leapt to the side as Sapphire ran at her with the dagger, the blow not landing. She looked as the blonde girl struggled to regain her balance, glaring at her. This was going to end in extreme agony if she wasn't careful. Sapphire ran at Topaz again, only this time, she wasn't able to dodge._

_Topaz fell to the ground with a grunt of pain, the hard floor causing a sharp pain to bound throughout her skull. Sapphire was sat on top of her, smiling sadistically at her._

_"Oh, look," She said with a giggle, "Looks like you won't be as successful as your pathetic dead boyfriend, Ebony or something." She laughed viciously, before bringing the knife closer down. In the tribute tournament matches, it ended when one side forfeited, or was knocked unconscious, and since neither was going to back down, it continued to happen, even with Sapphire being dangerously close to causing serious harm to Topaz. But that didn't matter to her. What did matter was that Sapphire had just insulted Ebony, and Topaz wasn't about to let her get away with that._

_With a burst of sudden strength, Topaz leapt up from the ground, catching Sapphire by surprise, and managed to knock the younger girl to the floor. Topaz reached for her sword, and swung at Sapphire. Sapphire blocked the blow, though, with her knife, and the two remained in a stand-off, neither girl backing down._

_"You'd better apologise for talking about Ebony like that." Topaz hissed dangerously to Sapphire, who remained with a determined expression._

_"Hell no," She replied, pushing harder, "He deserved to die in the arena. In fact, I'm only sad that I wasn't the one who did it." This was too far. Nobody spoke about Ebony like that in front of Topaz._

_"How dare you!" She screamed, and lifted her sword up, causing Sapphire to lose her balance, before swinging it forwards with every ounce of her strength._

_She had only aimed to slam the flat end into her chest, knocking her to the ground, but instead, Topaz's sword drove right into Sapphire's throat, neatly slicing her head off like a lump of butter. Blood instantly gushed from the stump where Sapphire's head once was, and the body fell to the ground, dead._

_Everyone remained silent as a pool of blood grew from Sapphire's corpse, and Topaz found herself unable to breathe. In a fit of rage, she had easily killed someone. She felt faint and sick at the same time as the scent of Sapphire's blood reached her nostrils. She had done that. It wasn't supposed to happen, but it did. Topaz Doublet had become a murderer. In desperation, she glanced around at the crowd of trainers, and the referee. One had fainted in horror, and the others' faces had turned white. Finally, after what felt like forever, the referee walked forward, towards the carnage, and spoke up, shakily._

_"The female tribute for this year's Hunger Games is none other than Topaz Doublet!"_

Topaz found herself on the verge of crying as the memory haunted her. She hadn't meant to kill Sapphire, and was extremely lucky that they hadn't reported her to the authorities. Instead, Sapphire had fallen from the roof of the tall building. Despite how unbelievable it sounded, the Peacekeepers bought it. She was lucky.

Suddenly, Topaz caught the scent of something. For a moment, she thought it was Sapphire's blood, but instead, it was just the scent of bacon cooking. Relief washed over her, and she stood up shakily, walking towards the door of her bedroom. It opened with a creak, and the bright morning light reached her wide blue eyes. She blinked several times, adjusting to the brightness, before walking along the landing, her bare feet dragging across the soft, but worn, carpet.

She reached the end of the landing, and faced the staircase, before taking a deep breath. Today would be her last day in District 1, and she might as well enjoy it to the fullest. With this in mind, Topaz began to descend the stair case, each step creaking under her footsteps as she drew closer to the bottom. Once she was at the bottom of the stairs, Topaz looked along the hallway. The kitchen door was half open, and the delicious aroma seemed to be stronger. The thought of food succeeded in calming Topaz, and, as if being pulled, she drifted over to the door.

Topaz pushed the door open, the hinges creaking ever so slightly, and stepped inside the kitchen. The food smelled absolutely divine, but that was just District 1 food. She could only begin to imagine how truly delicious the food in the Capitol would be; each piece of food looked more luxurious than the last, or so it seemed on camera.

Looking around the room, Topaz saw her mother at the stove, cooking the bacon, whilst her father sat at the table, idly twirling a fork in his hands. Even though they didn't look it, Topaz could feel the anticipation in the air. The reaping was in a matter of hours, and she could tell that it was on everyone's minds.

"Good morning," She said as she walked across the kitchen, the floor cold to her bare feet.

"Good morning," Her father replied, placing the fork back down, looking at her with a warm smile, "Are you ready for the reaping?"

"Indeed I am," Topaz said, smiling warmly to him, suddenly aware of a feeling of excitement rising from the depths of her being, threatening to spill out, "To be honest, I really can't wait."

"That's the spirit," Topaz's mother added kindly, with a confident grin on her face, "We will definitely get a victor from District One this year."

"Thanks," Topaz replied bashfully, "I'll be trying my best." She stopped talking for a moment, sitting down at the table, opposite her father, before adding, "Also, do you know who'll be mentoring this year, by any chance?"

"Actually, I do," Her father responded, "It's Allure Lavish."

"And for the boys?" Topaz questioned. She needed to know this; after all, each mentor handled the games slightly differently.

"Cris Amaranth."

Straight away, Topaz's heart sank. Cris Amaranth was Ebony's older brother, and the final victor in the Amaranth family's victory streak. A crushing feeling was welling up in her chest, but she tried her hardest to ignore it.

"Really?" Topaz's voice was high and faint, and her throat hurt from saying the words. Tears were threatening to spill out, and she felt herself going red. This wasn't good at all; if she was caught crying at the reaping, then the other girls would certainly attempt to take her space, even after all her training. She couldn't let it happen!

"Really," Topaz's father replied, before looking at her quizzically, "Hey, are you alright?"

"Fine," Topaz snapped back, trying to ignore the urge to break down into tears, "I'm sorry; the stress of the reaping has finally caught up to me, is all." She offered a meek smile to her father, who seemed to buy it. Either that, or he was trying to not be interested in whatever was bothering her. Topaz took several deep breaths, before finally calming herself. Good. That was one less worry to focus on; she wouldn't appear to be weak at the reaping.

As Topaz focused on remaining calm, her mother walked over to Topaz, carrying a plate full of the delicious meal, the aroma delightfully floating up to her nose. She greedily drank it in, before taking her fork, slowly devouring the food in front of her. The bacon exploded with flavour as it danced across her mouth, sliding down her throat. The first delightful piece was soon followed by another, and another, until all that remained was an empty plate sitting in front of her.

"Did you enjoy your breakfast, dear?" Her mother said warmly, taking the plate from the table.

"Yes I did," Topaz replied, smiling in satisfaction, "You know, I'm gonna miss your cooking when I'm in the Capitol." Of course, Topaz knew that the food from the Capitol would be infinitely better than this, but she wanted to make her last day in the district as positive as possible.

Topaz's father stood up, and glanced at the clock on the wall. Topaz knew from routine what this meant; it was time to get ready for the reaping.

"Topaz," He said, now looking at her, "It's time to get ready." Exactly as it had been for the past six years.

"Okay," Topaz nodded, and gave a warm smile, before standing from her seat, neatly pushing the chair under the table, before walking out of the kitchen. She could hear her parents talk about something as she entered the hallway, walking towards the staircase.

She reached the first stair, the familiar soft fabric of the carpet encompassing her feet. Topaz grabbed the wooden banister, and slowly ascended the stairs, each stair creaking as the top grew closer. She eventually reached the top of the staircase, and walked across the hallway to her room.

Topaz carefully opened the door to her room, the handle cold to touch. She stepped inside, and suddenly became aware of how dark her room was. It was almost depressing to see, and she couldn't handle any negativity today if she wanted the district to support her in the arena; being hostile would not bring sponsors. With that in mind, Topaz walked over to her bed, leaning across to the black curtain that denied the sunlight. She grabbed it, and pulled it open, the bright light blinding.

Blinking several times as she adjusted to the light, Topaz neatly put the curtain to one side, before standing upright. She then walked across her bedroom, to the rich wooden closet. Grabbing the smooth handle, the closet creaked open, revealing the entirety of Topaz's outfits. She looked at the far left hand side of the closet, and pulled out a dress. It was a beautiful dress, made of a sky blue fabric that was soft to the touch. In addition to this, Topaz also pulled out a pair of matching shoes, and set the outfit on her bed.

Topaz was quick to remove her sleepwear, folding it neatly into a pile at the foot of her bed. She then grabbed the dress, and carefully slipped it on, adjusting the outfit to look as perfect as possible, before grabbing the shoes, stepping daintily into them. She fastened her shoes up, before her hands flew to her hair, wasting no time in brushing it, giving it a beautiful shine as it cascaded down her back, the ends slightly curling outwards. She truly was the image of beauty.

After checking over herself in the mirror several times, Topaz walked carefully across her room, opening the door. But before she left her room, she closed her eyes, and blew it a kiss, in case she didn't return home. Once this was done, she took a deep breath, and strode out of her room with confidence.

Topaz walked down the stairs, her hand gliding on the banister as her parents stood at the bottom, their eyes brimming with pride.

"You look beautiful," Topaz's mother said, wiping a tear from her eye, "Truly stunning."

"Thanks," Topaz replied, smiling bashfully. She wasn't normally one to really care about her appearance, but when she had to, she put as much effort into it as possible.

"Now, be sure to get your rightful position as tribute," Her father instructed as she reached the bottom of the stairs, moving out of the way as her elegant shoes made contact with the floor.

"I will." Topaz confirmed with a confident grin, and let out a light giggle. She wasn't sure whether it was truly out of joy, or out of nerves due to the pressure of the reaping occurring in a short matter of time. Either way, it resonated with her parents, who grinned madly, and lightly kissed her head as she made her way along the hallway, towards the front door.

"Make us proud, dear." Topaz's mother called out as Topaz opened the front door, stepping outside.

As soon as the door opened, the summer sunshine met Topaz's eyes, causing her to blink several times. It was nice and warm outside, and the sounds of several excited conversations reached her ears; the atmosphere surrounding the reaping was truly magical. She closed the front door of the house, and walked down the steps leading up to the house, and onto the street.

Straight away, though, Topaz was nearly knocked to the ground as a figure rushed past her. It appeared to be a young man, wearing a smart outfit, with dirty blonde hair.

"Hey!" She yelled at him, but he had already vanished down the hill at the end of the street, gone from her sight. Whatever. At least she wouldn't have to deal with that sort of thing after today.

Ignoring her frustrations, Topaz walked down the street, smoothing her dress, and fanning her face with her hand as the summer heat began to get to her. But she couldn't waste any energy trying to cool herself, so Topaz tried her best to ignore it as she walked down the hill, almost tripping on the steep slope.

As she walked past a house, the sound of loud music caught her by surprise, and Topaz let out a startled yelp, before going red. How brilliant. She was getting spooked over _music_ of all things. Sighing at her stupidity, Topaz reached the bottom of the hill, joining the girls' queue as she prepared to join the rest of her district for the reaping. She could hear other girls talking about the reaping in front of and behind her, but Topaz didn't join in; after her incident with Sapphire, she was somewhat of an outcast from the district. After all, who would want to get close to a murderer?

The line moved closer to the central plaza, and Topaz looked up, seeing that she was next to be signed in.

"Next," The Peacekeeper called out in a faint Capitol accent, and Topaz walked up to him, letting him take her hand. He pricked her index finger, causing her to wince in pain, but her expression reverted back to normal almost immediately afterwards. The machine on the desk then lit up, and Topaz's details flashed on the screen.

**DOUBLET, TOPAZ**

**FEMALE**

**AGE 18**

"You may go through now," The Peacekeeper said, and Topaz nodded, walking past him into the central plaza. The place was swarming with people, and Topaz walked over to the 18 year old females' section, sucking on her bleeding finger as other girls her age surrounded her.

Then, the entire plaza grew silent as the District 1 escort climbed onto the stage, dressed as a rainbow cow. She smiled at the audience, and grabbed the microphone from the podium, testing it before beginning to address the district.

"Welcome, welcome, _welcome!_" She trilled out, smiling wildly, "Welcome to the District One reaping for the sixty ninth annual Hunger Games, and may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" The crowd began to cheer at the fashion challenged woman, Topaz included. It was a festivity, so why shouldn't she celebrate?

"Now, before we can meet our courageous young man and woman, we have a little video to watch!" She clapped, oblivious to the groans that resonated from the crowd as the video began to play. Topaz paid no attention to it, having seen it practically her whole life, and focused on a small ladybug on the ground, weaving through the girls' feet, until the video ended. She looked up, and heard sighs of relief.

"Finally," She heard someone say, but her attention was on the escort, who had made her way to the first reaping bowl; this was it.

"Now, onto the main event!" She giggled, and the crowd burst into applause as she reached the first bowl, but grew quiet as the name was read out. But nobody stepped forward. After all, they were waiting for the Career to show up. _Me,_ Topaz thought to herself as she cleared her throat.

"I volunteer as tribute!" She boldly exclaimed, and straight away, the girls surrounding her parted, letting her through to the clearing between the two gender groups. She walked along the path, and up to the stage, climbing the steps. Once she reached the top, the escort began to clap and cheer.

"Excellent!" She cried out, "And what's your name?"

"Topaz," Topaz responded with a grin, "Topaz Doublet." The crowd exploded into a mass of cheering, and Topaz sighed in relief. That went smoothly, and now all she had to do was see who her district partner would be.

Suddenly, Topaz heard a gunshot, and saw the crowd grow silent, a look of irritation on the escort's doctored face.

"Now that we've calmed down," She began, walking past Topaz to the second bowl, "It's time to find out who our lucky young man will be!" The crowd grew silent as the name was read out. Whoever it was didn't come forward, but Topaz saw a young boy from the front section stiffen up. But he calmed down as two older boys burst forward, rushing to the stage. The smaller of the two, a boy with dirty blonde hair, punched the larger boy's head, knocking him to the ground, before calmly climbing the stage, his green eyes brimming with confidence.

"How exciting!" The escort exclaimed, "And what's your name?"

"Osiris Garnet." He replied, without skipping a beat, smiling at the crowd. As he did so, Topaz recognised him as the boy who nearly knocked her flying, and suppressed a scowl. Of all the people to go into the arena in with, she had to have the guy whose throat she nearly tore out.

The crowd calmed down, and the escort walked in between the two tributes, and took the mic.

"Well, there you have it! Ladies and gentlemen, your tributes for the sixy ninth annual Hunger Games! Osiris Garnet and Topaz Doublet!" Another round of applause, before the escort made them both shake hands, and Peacekeepers surrounded them, taking them to the justice building.

Topaz paced around in the goodbye room in the justice building, brimming with excitement. She was in! She was this year's female tribute! Topaz could barely contain her glee, but kept a straight face. She had to make the right impression for the cameras.

The door to the room opened, and Topaz's parents walked in, hugging her.

"You did it!" Her mother exclaimed, radiating the same joy as her, "I'm so proud!"

"Same her, honey." Her father chimed in, before pulling out something from his pocket. "Here. It's your district token, to represent you in the arena." Topaz took the gift from him, and studied it. It was a wristband, adorned with blue topaz gems.

"It's perfect," Topaz said, beaming as she hugged him, "Thank you!"

They remained like this for another couple of minutes, before a Peacekeeper appeared at the door.

"Come on," He said gruffly, and Topaz's parents nodded.

"Good luck, sweetie!" Her mother called out as they walked out of the door, leaving her alone.

As Topaz traced the gems on her wristband, her mind began to race. This was what she had been training her whole life for, and there was no doubt in her mind that she would win. And one thought continued to resonate throughout her mind that fuelled this determination.

She would do this to continue the memory of Ebony Amaranth.


	4. Dylan Spelunk - More than a Game

**A/N: Finally, I'm getting back into the swing of 23 Cannons! So here is the belated chapter four, introducing our delightful young man from District 2, Dylan Spelunk! **

**And, it's also been exactly one year to the minute of me writing this AN that I first posted any of my writing online! :D Yay for me!**

* * *

**District 2:**

**Dylan Spelunk (Male Tribute, 18)**

With a decisive punch, the crudely stitched bag broke free of the string it was attached to, falling to the ground with a satisfying thud. It took a while, but it finally fell. Just like people; some would take forever to kill.

Looking over at the destroyed punching bag, Dylan wiped the layer of sweat from his forehead, panting. It had taken him a total of seven minutes to destroy the punching bag; better than yesterday, but nothing to flaunt. No; only perfection would be accepted. After all, he had claimed the place of this year's tribute.

Dylan walked over to the bench on the other side of the training gym, and grabbed the bottle of water. He lifted it up, and brought it to his lips. The cool, refreshing liquid passed his lips, and slid down his throat, hydrating him. Once the bottle was emptied, Dylan placed it down, looking over the gym. His routinely morning exercise program had just been completed, and in record time too. He was ready to volunteer today; he knew for a fact that he was more prepared than that creep last year; Nick or something. Whatever. That loser was dead now, and Dylan would be the one that finally brought glory to District 2.

With this in mind, Dylan quickly walked across the gym, and to the doors on the other end. He reached a hand out, pressing onto the cool, blurred glass, and pushed on the door, opening it silently. He stepped forwards, and began to walk down the hallway. The hallway was dimly lit by a low hanging light, with old doors lining the walls. It also smelled slightly of body sprays; the trainers gave each Career in training a can, to prevent the sweat from smelling. Dylan continued down the hallway, stopping outside one of the doors. It was wooden, and painted green, but the paint was fading from years of use. Everything seemed to stick out to Dylan today; he guessed it was due to being aware that this was his last time using this facility.

He reached down, and grabbed the brass handle, pushing it down. He then pushed the door open, and stepped inside. The private room contained a locker, a shower, and a row of benches to sit on. Dylan stretched, before walking to the other side of the room, reaching his locker.

As Dylan became engrossed in opening the locker, he failed to notice as the door to the private room slid open, and a figure silently entered, walking towards him. Still unaware, Dylan continued to work on opening his locker, when a pair of slender hands ran up his shirt. An almost electric shiver ran up Dylan's spine as the cool feel of the hands ran along his back.

"Who's there?" He said, turning around, causing the hands to stop running up his shirt. However, of all the things he expected to see, the person that stood in front of him was someone Dylan thought he'd never see.

Standing right there, was a tall young woman, with long dark hair that curled at the ends, and perfect skin. Her large brown eyes gazed at him, and her full red lips curled into a sly smirk. She was wearing a white tank top, and a short dark skirt, exposing most of her arms and legs. To say she was attractive would have been an understatement.

"Hey," She said in a low, seductive purr, "Dylan, right?" All Dylan could do was nod, his deep tanned cheeks going red.

"Y-Yeah..." He stammered, his heart pounding in his chest. An extremely attractive female was acting seductively mere inches from him; what else was he supposed to do? "What do you want?"

"Oh, I want many things," She said, not taking her gaze from him for a second, "But from you? I simply want to tell you that you're staring into the eyes of your fellow tribute." Hold on. This girl was going to be the tribute this year? She looked a little old to be a tribute, but she was probably about Dylan's age.

Dylan remained motionless as a small giggle came from the girl's lips, and she reached a tender hand forwards. She ran her elegant fingers through his short, close cropped hair, causing shivers to run all throughout Dylan's body. He was absolutely speechless as she used her other hand to push him onto the bench, against the wall. She then proceeded to straddle him as he slumped down, gazing lustfully at him. Dylan's heart was pounding even more at her actions. This was all a bit extreme; something that would probably need consent, but he couldn't do anything but watch, mesmerised, as this girl seductively played with him.

Continuing with these surprising actions, the girl's hands flew down to Dylan's waist, firmly gripping the bottom of his shirt. She continued to gaze seductively at him as she pulled the garment higher up his body, until it was up over his head, discarded on the floor. Once that was done, her slender fingers ran to his stomach, tracing his perfectly toned abs, running over the birthmark on the right hand side; his mother had always said it looked like the old world continent Africa. The girl's delicate touch then moved along his stomach again, running up to his broad chest, dancing lightly over his pectorals, sparks of sensation tingling all over. The sensation continued to travel upwards, passing his collar bone, before creeping up his neck, finally reaching his jaw.

Dylan wanted to gape in awe; to do anything, but was under some sort of spell; her enticing actions preventing him from being anything other than an inanimate object for her soft, tender, sensational hands to run all over. However, as he thought this, the hands pulled away, and her soft face drew closer to his own, before their lips connected. Dylan closed his eyes, and let the feeling take over; it was like a million electrical explosions around his mouth.

After what could have been an eternity, the girl finally pulled away, leaving Dylan sitting there, dazed and confused.

"That was pretty good," She said coyly, standing up, "Who knows? If you're lucky, we might get to do this again in the Capitol." After this, she gave a sly wink, and blew a kiss to Dylan, before slipping out of the room as silently as she entered.

Dylan was still incapable of forming any coherent thoughts on what had just happened. Some attractive girl had just managed to creep into this private room, and perform a seductive display to him, before telling him that she was the female tribute for this year. It was all highly confusing, to say the least. But he couldn't spend all day sat in a daze; the time was ticking away until the reaping.

Shaking away these thoughts, Dylan slowly stood up, and bent down, picking up his shirt. He then walked across the room, and fully undressed, walking into the shower. He turned the dial, and a warm jet of water rushed out, cleaning his body. As the water rinsed over him, Dylan began to think about the events that had just happened. What was that girl thinking when she did that? Obviously, that performance was probably out of impulse more than anything else; perhaps it was an attempt at her trying to get him to trust her. It seemed pretty smart; make friends before your life was on the line. A smug grin crept onto Dylan's face at this. It was the first step to founding the Career pack without a hitch. And even if the tributes from 1 and 4 didn't want to join such alliance this year, at least the two of them would do pretty far; the deadly attractive duo from District 2. He could see it already.

Dylan reached a hand forward, and turned off the shower, the dripping of water decreasing in frequency until, finally, silence. He pushed open the shower's door, and stepped out, a cloud of steam flowing out into the room, giving it a hot, humid quality. But Dylan didn't mind it; last year's arena had that sort of environment, and this year could have something similar. He continued to walk across to the room, and to his locker. He wasted no time in opening it this time, and the door swung open, revealing the contents inside. There was a small backpack, with clothing sticking out; it wasn't his reaping outfit, but it was what he would be wearing until he got home.

He pulled the bag out, and set it on the bench, before pulling out his outfit; a loose, grey shirt, a pair of shorts, and some running shoes. He quickly slipped the outfit on, and put his other outfit in the bag, putting the bag back in the locker, shutting it once more. It was pretty much the last time he'd use it, so there was no need for him to bring it home to clean. Sighing, Dylan walked across the room, opening the door. It creaked open, unlike when the girl opened it, and he stepped out, the humidity vanishing.

Taking a deep breath, Dylan walked along the hallway, to the double doors at the far end. Warm sunlight filtered through the cracked glass, highlighting the damage done years ago from overuse. Carefully, he pushed open the door, the warm air swarming around him.

It truly was a beautiful day; the sun was shining brightly, and the sounds of people preparing for the Games reached Dylan's ears. The excitement was practically radiating off the district as the majority of the citizens wondered who would be their potential victor this year. And they wouldn't be disappointed; District 2 was definitely going to have a winner this year, no doubt about it. After all, who could be better than Dylan Spelunk? He had managed to win the tribute qualification tournament without a hitch; nobody had been a challenge for him. In fact, it had been the first time in years that somebody had managed to win every match without sustaining any injuries.

Smiling to himself out of confidence, Dylan walked down the street, away from the training centre. It wasn't as good as the one in the Capitol would be, but it did its job, and had secured many a victor over the years. And it would continue the trend this year, or his name wasn't Dylan Spelunk.

A soft breeze carried through the air, cooling the stifling heat slightly. It wasn't much, but it took the edge off it. The breeze also carried the delicious aroma of cooking meat; Dylan found himself almost drooling over it, before inwardly chastising himself. He couldn't be seen doing such things; he needed to make the best impression with the Capitol if he had any hope of getting people to sponsor him. The wind died down, causing the scent of the food to disappear, and Dylan continued onwards.

As he continued walking, the road gradually became a steeper slope. But Dylan couldn't complain; the mild strain this was causing was nothing. Spending pretty much the whole of his childhood in training was probably the main thing that contributed, but being resistant to strain was never a bad thing. The top of the hill grew closer, and Dylan broke out into a slight jog; enough to pick up the pace, but not enough to use up any energy.

Dylan reached the top of the hill, his pulse up, but the slight exhaustion wasn't going to deter his excitement. Breathing heavily, he rested against the wall of the nearest building, another delicious scent reaching his nose. He looked through the window, and soon found where the smell was coming from; he was just outside the bakery, which meant that he still had quite a way to go before he would be home. That was one of the disadvantages of District 2; the best training centre was situated in the poorer section of the district, whilst Dylan was fairly rich.

He could hear the sounds of the residents of the bakery as they prepared for the day ahead; the Games meant that more people were willing to freely part with their money, so the bakery would have to work at least twice its normal amount. Dylan's breath returned, and he stopped leaning against the building, walking down the street calmly.

The sun crept higher into the sky as Dylan turned left at the end of the street, the shadow of the mountain known as the Nut blocking out the strong light, taking the edge off of the summer heat. Dylan sighed at the cool air, and walked along the dark grey road, stopping just outside one of the houses lining the street; his home.

Dylan walked up to the front door of his house, and grabbed the handle, pulling it down, opening it. The smell of toast reached his nose, and he breathed in, enjoying the scent, before walking into his house, closing the door behind him.

As soon as Dylan was inside his house, his mother appeared from the kitchen. She was a fairly small woman, with dark hair on the verge of turning grey, and large eyes that seemed to radiate life and knowledge.

"Hello, Dylan," She said softly, smiling widely, "You've just missed breakfast, but I've saved some for you."

"Thanks," Dylan replied, walking towards the kitchen, enticed by the scent. If there was one thing that he was certain of in life, it was that his mother was one hell of a cook. In fact, he often wondered why she didn't pursue that as a career in life, instead of working in the mines. It probably had something to do with the fact that she came from a poor background.

Walking into the kitchen, Dylan breathed in the aroma of breakfast, his stomach demanding to be fed. Usually he'd try his best to ignore it; it was key for a Career to be able to resist hunger for as long as possible, but hey, it was his last day in District 2. He scanned the surfaces of the kitchen, his eyes eventually settling on the still steaming plate of toast. Eagerly, Dylan ran across the room, grabbing the plate. He lifted the first slice, and wasted no time in devouring it. It tasted truly divine, as always. Smiling, Dylan finished the toast, and after placing the plate back into a cupboard, walked back out.

"Did you enjoy that?" Dylan's mother questioned warmly as he walked past her.

"Yeah," Dylan replied, "It was delicious. Thanks."

"You're welcome," She replied, beaming, "And good luck at the reaping." It was slight, but Dylan noticed that her voice caught at the end of the sentence. Of course, once he was tribute, she'd be alone; Dylan's father and sister were caught up in a mine collapse a couple of weeks ago. Both made it out alive, but they were still in a critical condition in the hospital. This was what compelled Dylan to train even harder; he would be able to use his status as victor to get the treatment for the two of them.

"Just hold on, Melanie," He mumbled under his breath as he climbed the stairs, "You'll be better soon." Melanie was two years younger than Dylan, but was opposed to training as a Career. So after finishing her required education at 15, she joined her parents in the mines. As well as this, Dylan adored her with all his heart, and when he received the news that she was caught up in the accident, it nearly broke him.

Dylan reached the top of the stairs, and made his way across the dusty landing to his bedroom. He pushed open the door, and found his reaping outfit laid out neatly on the bed; a dark suit, which used to be his father's reaping outfit all those years ago. He quickly removed his current clothing, and put the outfit on, walking in front of the mirror in his room to adjust it; his reaping appearance would be judged by the Capitol, so if it wasn't as good as he could make it, then there would be a significant lack of sponsors.

Satisfied with his appearance at last, Dylan walked out of his room, and made his way downstairs again. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, Dylan saw his mother standing in the hallway, straightening out her dress. She had owned that dress since she was 18, and all these years later, still managed to make it work. That was just one of the many charms of Dylan's mother. And besides, they couldn't really afford to waste money on trivial things like dresses; Dylan's training fees were enough.

"Hey," Dylan said as he walked towards her, glancing at the cracked wall clock; they had about half an hour before the reaping was due to begin.

"Oh, Dylan!" His mother cried out, embracing him, "You look stunning! Like a future victor!"

"Ha, thanks," Dylan replied, trying to escape being smothered by his own mother, "Could you let go?"

"Of course!" She exclaimed, letting her son go. Dylan took a deep breath, before straightening his tie once more. "Now, are you ready to go to the reaping?"

"You know it." Dylan responded with a confident grin. It was all going to go perfectly.

After sharing one more good luck embrace, the two walked down the hallway, and out of the front door of the house. As he adjusted to the brightness of the summer sun, excitement began to rise up inside Dylan. His lifelong dream was to become a reality today; he was going to compete in the Hunger Games.

"Hey," Dylan said to his mother as they began to walk down the street, "Would you mind if I run off to the reaping square now? Just so that I can ensure that nobody else will try to take my position."

"Sure," She replied with a warm smile, "Just be sure to actually get in as a tribute."

"You speak as if there's some form of doubt surrounding the possibility." Dylan let out a laugh, and left his mother's side, rushing down the street.

A refreshing breeze was blowing through the air, keeping the district at a comfortable temperature; perfect conditions for reaping day. Dylan took in a deep breath, and turned right at the end of the street. Almost immediately after, the sun hit him, and Dylan shielded his eyes as he ran down the road, beginning to descend the sharp hill that led to the road to the reaping square. He reached the bottom of the hill, and soon found the long line of teenagers near the entrance to the reaping square. He joined them, standing in the slowly moving line, and listened to the conversation two boys behind him were having.

"I'm so excited for this year's Games!" One boy said, his voice breaking awkwardly on every word, "From what I've heard in the training academy, our representatives this year will secure victory for sure!"

"I know!" The other boy, his voice lower, and more stable, replied, "I can't wait to actually see them!" Dylan smirked with pride. Boy, were they in for a show, so long as that girl from earlier wasn't actually the tribute, whatever her name was. He felt odd for not knowing her name, but it wasn't like it was the most important thing.

"Next," A voice called out, and Dylan looked at the Peacekeeper at the desk. She was half slouching, a bored expression on her cream coloured face. Dylan walked up to her, and offered his hand. She gripped it firmly, and pricked it with the device that was always used.

**SPELUNK, DYLAN**

**MALE**

**AGE 18**

"You can go through now," The Peacekeeper said.

"Okay," Dylan replied, and walked past the desk, and joined the 18 year old males in the reaping square, calmly standing there as the other guys excitedly talked about the Hunger Games. From the snippets of conversation he heard, Dylan deduced that they were speculating about the arena. As they continued to talk, Dylan realised that he probably should have been thinking about the arena; the current head Gamemaker had been creative with her choices so far, and each arena hadn't been what it seemed to be. But it wasn't worth worrying about it right now; Dylan was pretty certain that training would offer him a hint about the arena.

Before he could think ahead any further, though, the crowd went silent as the escort climbed onto the stage. He was a tall, slender man, with porcelain skin, massive purple hair, a deep purple suit, and what could only be described as talons for hands. He gripped the microphone on the stage, and began to address the crowd.

"Welcome, welcome!" He trilled, "Welcome to District Two's reaping for the sixty ninth annual Hunger Games! And, may the odds be _ever_ in your favour!" The crowd began to clap and cheer, the air tingling with excitement. "But hold onto your excitement for just a moment, because we have a very special film for us all to watch today, courtesy of the Capitol!" Dylan rolled his eyes as the film began to play. This was perhaps the worst part of the reaping; he didn't see any reason to waste nearly 15 minutes on a documentary on the history of Panem; it didn't serve any purpose to the Games. But he held back any negative comments, pretending to pay attention to the video, until it eventually ended.

"Finally," He muttered under his breath.

"Wasn't that delightful?" The escort giggled, the crowd clapping with him. "And now for the main event; selecting our courageous tributes!" The cheering increased in volume as he leapt over to the first bowl, sticking his hand in, "Ladies first!"

He read the name out, but the girl in question, a fourteen year old from Dylan's training centre, didn't move. Of course she wasn't going to be the tribute; the hand-picked representative was. And exactly as planned, a hand shot up from the females' section.

"I volunteer as tribute!" She cried out, the sea of girls parting around her. And as she walked out into the middle of the square, Dylan's jaw dropped.

It was the girl from earlier, wearing the same outfit, and the same sly smile. She sauntered up to the stage, climbing the steps with little effort, and gave out a light giggle.

"Well then!" The escort exclaimed, "It appears we have a volunteer! What's your name, honey?"

"Kylee Harker," The girl said, not missing a beat, "Don't forget it." She winked coyly at the cameras, and Dylan felt an unsettling unease come over him. This Kylee girl was playing the crowd like a harp; she had pretty much everyone wrapped around her finger. And as she flashed a seductive smirk, Dylan realised why she was the chosen tribute; she was manipulative, which explained that performance earlier in the changing room. But the extent of her manipulation remained a mystery.

"How exciting!" The escort cried out, clapping. The crowd erupted into applause, and Dylan looked coldly at Kylee. She was going to be a problem in the arena, that much was certain. "But contain your excitement for just a moment longer! It's time to find out which young man will take the glory of being this year's tribute!"

The crowd fell silent as he skipped over to the males' bowl, and stuck a talon into the bowl. He gripped a single slip, and lifted it out, reading clearly.

"Dylan Spelunk!"

Well, that was one problem solved. Dylan let a confident grin cross his features, and walked through the crowd, and up to the stage, blatantly ignoring the other attempts at volunteering. He took his place next to Kylee, and absorbed the excited cheers of the crowd; he was a celebrity now.

"Hey," Kylee said softly, her voice barely audible over the roar of the crowd. "Nice to see a familiar face going into the arena with me, huh?"

"Yeah," Dylan said. "It kind of is."

"Ladies and gentlemen, one more for Dylan Spelunk and Kylee Harker: The tributes from District Two!" The crowd erupted in cheering as Peacekeepers surrounded the pair of tributes. Dylan barely had time to glance at the crowd before he was herded into the Justice Building.

The goodbye room was fairly small, and very plush. Dylan stood in the corner of the room, his hand tracing the intricate pattern on a desk; they were hand-carved flowers. Evening primroses, if he remembered anything from the brief plant identification training he did. It was amazing how someone did this; no doubt the work of District 1.

Suddenly, the door opened, and Dylan looked as his mother walked into the room, wrapping her arms around him.

"Congratulations!" she said. "My boy's this year's tribute!"

"I know," Dylan said bashfully. "No need to smother me."

"Sorry!" she said, pulling away. "I guess old habits die hard." She backed off from Dylan, and reached into her pocket, revealing a pendant with a locket attached to it.

"What's this?" Dylan asked, taking the locket.

"Just open it," his mother said. "You'll realise." Dylan shot her a confused look, before opening the locket up. When he saw the contents, his heart caught in his chest.

It was a picture of his father and sister, smiling happily. Something about this filled Dylan with emotion, and he instantly realised what it was.

"Hey," he said, his voice uneasy. "Why aren't they...?"

"Critical condition," his mother replied. "They have maybe a month left alive, and cannot be moved from the hospital; they're on life support." Dylan felt the colour drain from his cheeks. "Which means that unless you win the Games before two weeks are up, they're both going to die."

"No..." Dylan choked out, desperately trying to hold in the emotion. Keep it together, keep it together, keep it together... The mantra echoed around his head, and Dylan was so focused on it that he didn't notice his mother attach the pendant to his neck, nor did he notice her leaving, and he wasn't aware of the Peacekeepers dragging him out into the car. The only thing he could see was the image of Melanie, lying in a hospital bed, barely alive.

This had gone from Dylan wanting to enter the Games for glory: he had to win this, or his mother would lose everyone she held close to her heart.


	5. Attachments

Emily stood on the sleek floor of the train, flinching as the silver door slammed shut behind her. She took a step forwards, not daring to look back: home was behind her now. All that mattered was focusing on the future. Or so she hoped; there was no telling how impossible such a task would be. And she was still in shock from actually being reaped. It hadn't sunk in yet, even though she was entirely aware of what exactly had happened to her.

"Emily Horwitz, District Eight tribute," she muttered under her breath bitterly as she walked down the hallway to another silver door at the end. She drew close to it, and it opened with a whirring sound, revealing the main dining cart of the train.

The room was huge; much larger than any dining room Emily had seen before. Directly in front of her was a massive plush sofa, facing a massive television screen on the wall. The sofa was a bright green colour, and adorned with countless cushions; it was entirely unclear whether or not it was a sofa or some sort of luxurious bed. Emily took another step forward, and looked down at the thick, rich carpeting below. It was as if she had stepped into another world.

"Ah, Emily dear!" Emily looked up, and saw her escort, a bizarre man by the name of Thorburn, waving madly at her. "You sure did take your time: Kaye's already gotten to know Weaver and I!" Emily groaned at this. Never mind the Games; she'd have to endure two ragingly flamboyant balls of energy and some guy who had seen far too much death for one lifetime. But there was no point in arguing about it if she wanted some chance of actually surviving. She simply sighed, and walked up to them.

"Oh, sorry about that," she said sheepishly. "I guess I'm just so overwhelmed by everything."

"Get used to it kid," Weaver said dryly. "This ain't no picnic; planning your survival begins right here, right now."

"And anyway, Emily honey," Kaye said, sitting at the huge dining table lined with mountains of food. "How do you expect to live your life being such a ditz? You have a much better time getting noticed by a man if you're... _observant._"

"Are you gonna be like this the entire time?" Emily questioned.

"Like what?"

"Like some drunken Capitolite," she replied breezily. "It isn't really District Eight."

"Babe," Kaye said, "if you haven't noticed, being District Eight is _so _three years ago!"

"Could you please shut him up?" Emily asked Weaver. "I don't know how much of this I'll be able to take."

"Sorry, but I can't exactly help the guy out if he's unable to reply." Weaver shrugged, and grabbed an apple, taking a bite out of it. "And besides, we still have the recap of the reapings in a few minutes, so that might shut him up."

"Really?" Emily said with faux surprise. "I don't see any of the outliers being of bother to us, which leaves the Careers. And him seeing several well built, quite attractive guys? Dear lord..."

"I see _someone's _a bundle of sunshine," Kaye taunted.

"Shut it twinkle-toes," Emily spat back. "I'm still pissed off for being reaped; you don't really wanna get on my bad side."

"Gee," Kaye sighed. "Can't someone take humour?"

"Kaye," Weaver warned. "I've seen plenty of reactions to being reaped, and from personal experience? Emily's type are best left unprovoked until they come to terms with the situation." He deliberately avoided the dangerous glare Emily aimed his way. "Come on now, have something to eat. I can promise you that it'll be better than half the crap you get back home."

"Fine," Emily said. "But I don't feel particularly hungry."

"Oh, we'll see about that," Weaver said with a sly wink. He grabbed the nearest plate to him, and slid it across the table to where Emily was standing, arms folded. She looked down at it with a sort of curiosity. It appeared to be some kind of steaming sphere of meat, laced with gravy that flowed from a hole in the top; like some sort of of water fountain. Neatly cut little vegetables lined the meat, swimming in the moat of gravy below, colouring everything a slight shade of brown. Despite herself, Emily's stomach lurched at the meal. She wanted to eat it so desperately, but not at the expense of giving Weaver the satisfaction of holding something over her. Instead, Emily remained standing, glaring critically at the food, trying to ignore Kaye's moans of pleasure as he consumed his food. Another spurt of gravy erupted from the meat, and Emily's thin resolve wavered. She flew to her seat, grabbed a fork and knife, and proceeded to shovel mouthful after mouthful of the delightful food down her throat, unable to suppress her joy. Eventually, Emily felt her stomach feel like it was on the verge of bursting, and she set her cutlery down, sighing with relief. She looked at the food again, and found that she had maybe managed to eat a fifth of it before pushing her stomach to its limits. And not for the first time she wondered how on earth the people of the Capitol managed to stomach all of this.

Kaye also followed suit about five minutes later, dropping his fork to the table, and moaning as he clutched his stomach, his light brown hair swaying every which direction with every motion.

"Ohh," he complained. "This is pure agony! How can anyone eat this much?!"

"If I told you how they do it, then you'd probably end up wanting to vomit more that you do now." Weaver let out a dry chuckle, before looking at the clock on the wall. "Well then, it's already seven," he said. "It's time for the recap of the reaping to be shown. Come on."

"Ugh," Kaye said, standing up. "What are you, our _dad_?"

"No," Emily said sharply. "And if you make one more father remark, I'll spare the Careers the trouble of killing you by doing it myself before this train ride is over." Kaye looked at her warily, nervously skipping over to the sofa, Weaver and Thorburn just behind him. Emily took a moment to let the redness from her face subside, and collect herself before joining them: letting her past get to her now would be the most stupid mistake she could make.

Finally calm, Emily walked over to the large sofa, and perched herself on the edge, away from the others. Weaver was sat at the other end, looking intently at the television; Kaye was curled up in the middle of the sofa comfortably, and Thorburn was stood in the corner of the room, using a remote control to switch the television on. It took a second for everything to come into focus, but when it did, Emily saw that they had turned it on a tad too soon; it was in the middle of an interview with the Head Gamemaker.

"So tell me, Dew," Caesar Flickerman, the television host of the Games, said. "Anything you can tell us about this years's arena?" The Head Gamemaker let out a chuckle.

"Now now, Caesar," she said. "You don't want to be spoiled, do you?"

"Of course not!" Caesar replied, his hair bouncing slightly; Emily noticed that it was dyed a deep maroon colour, along with his lips and fingernails. "But anything to satisfy our curiosity would be excellent!"

"Well, if you really want to know..." Dew said. "As you're all aware, this is, unfortunately my final year as Head Gamemaker," she let out a sigh. "But I promise you that this year will be something to top all other Games in history; ensuring that everyone in Panem, from a humble citizen of the districts to the most fashionable Capitolite, will be unable to look away. So be prepared for a Hunger Games more unforgettable than even the Quarter Quells." The camera cut to the audience, which erupted in applause as the screen faded to the Capitol's seal and an instrumental version of the anthem of Panem played, with the message 'We'll be right back with more exciting updates from the 69th annual Hunger Games in just a few moments - stay tuned!' under the seal in gold writing.

Emily took this break in programming to lay back and get comfortable; there wasn't really a point in neglecting this brief luxury, and looked over at Thorburn who was bursting with joy.

"Oh my goodness!" he said. "Isn't this truly exciting?! We'll get to see your fellow tributes for the first time!"

"Yeah, _wonderful_," Emily said bitterly. "I can't wait."

"Shut it, you two!" Kaye hissed, pointing at the screen. "It's starting!" Emily looked away from Thorburn, and back to the screen as it faded to Caesar sitting at a desk, looking at the camera; they had revamped the television coverage, Emily noted. Every other year she could remember simply consisted of the presenter's voice over reaping footage. Odd to suddenly change it, but she supposed it had something to do with the Head Gamemaker leaving this year.

"Good evening, Panem!" Caesar exclaimed, catching Emily by surprise. "It's time for the first exciting moment of this year's Hunger Games to begin: getting our first look into the tributes!" Emily watched silently as Caesar looked at a fact file on his desk. "First up is the delightful duo from District One! Osiris Garnet and Topaz Doublet!" The screen behind Caesar faded to video footage of the two tributes at the reaping; Topaz, the girl, walking up to the stage confidently, and Osiris, beating another boy to the stage. "Don't they just seem fierce?"

"Oh, Caesar," Kaye said. "They do! And Osiris... someone hold me!"

"Good lord," Emily muttered her breath.

"Next up is the pair from District Two! Dylan Spelunk and Kylee Harker!" Caesar exclaimed, and showed footage of the pair from 2. Dylan seemed to be a typical run of the mill Career, but something about Kylee seemed different than other girls from 2; perhaps it was just the way she carried herself, but warning bells were going off in Emily's head just looking at her: every instinct told her Kylee was dangerous.

District 3 was less terrifying than 2, but it contained a rather unique blend of tributes. First up was Xander, a geeky blonde kid with ill-fitting glasses and wide blue eyes. He looked about fifteen, and in no way seemed prepared for the horrors that would await him in the Games. But his district partner was far more interesting. Rosaline, or Rose as indicated by a cry of horror on the recording, was a girl of either seventeen or eighteen with dark strawberry blonde hair and brown eyes. Her appearance was pretty average, but what set her apart was that she was the childhood friend of past victor Elektra Sparke as indicated by Caesar. Emily felt genuinely sorry for the both of them, and the situation they were in; if she had a childhood friend in this with her, she knew she wouldn't be able to cope.

District 4 seemed rather lacking this year in terms of Careers; both tributes were reaped conventionally. First up was a fifteen year old with bronze coloured hair by the name of Ren. He looked somewhat prepared, but not enough; it was obvious that he was a Career in training who had been selected far too soon. The poor thing would be lucky to make the Career pack. However, his partner was even more pitiful, a fragile looking fourteen year old with long blonde hair in a ponytail by the name of Annabell. She seemed to be in a state of disbelief, as if this wasn't actually happening to her. Emily immediately ruled out District 4 being any serious threat in the Games, which was a relief to her. But at the same time, they looked too vulnerable for Emily to deliberately attack.

The rather easygoing natures of the past two districts fell apart when District 5 was presented. In fact, just looking at them bothered Emily. First up was a tall boy with short brown hair and bright green eyes that almost seemed dead inside by the name of Markus. From his face only, it could be imagined that he was simply in a state of shock. But then there was the prison uniform. And the handcuffs. And the smear of blood on his face. He was a criminal, probably for murder. And from the looks of it, he had struck again today. Emily could only hope that his latest victim was still alive. At least that was her thought until it hit her that this monster of a boy was going to be joining her in the arena. A chill shot through Emily's spine. The girl was also a bit of a special case. She was a girl of about sixteen with light brown hair and piercing green eyes named Alexis Rays, daughter of past victor Luke Rays. Emily remembered watching his Games as a re-run on television because of the way he managed to win; a perfect blend of strength and skill. But looking at him on the stage showed nothing but pure horror; of course, why wouldn't there be? It was his own daughter being sent to her probable death. That was something as well; several of the tributes so far had deep emotional connections with other well-known people by the Capitol; Topaz was close to last year's male from District 1, Ebony Amaranth; Rose was Elektra's childhood friend, and Alexis was the daughter of Luke Rays. It was probably done by the Head Gamemaker to ensure the entertainment factor was at its highest this year.

District 6 presented nothing too special; a small boy of about thirteen with glasses and dirty blonde hair called Mason, who seemed to be nothing but another tragic example of such young kids being sent to die, and Salvera, a girl with light brown skin and platinum blonde hair who seemed to be not all there; she was in a constant daze. The idea that Salvera was off her head on morphling crossed Emily's mind, but something else seemed off about the girl, like she was on edge without being stressed. It was perplexing to say the least.

District 7 was something different entirely. The boy, a tall, thin fifteen year old with bags around his eyes and messy brown hair by the name of Brinn let out a horrified wail when his name was called out, and nearly descended into a panic attack of mass proportions. It was extremely pitiful watching him; he was clearly in no fit mental state for the Games. And judging from the way he kept giving the trees that grew in District 7's town square nervous glances, he was going to have an incredibly hard time. There were several tributes Emily felt bad for, but at the same time, it also meant that there were fewer dangerous threats to herself. The girl, Rosa, was fairly plain; fourteen years old, with long brown hair with a flower tucked into it, and looking completely terrified, barely holding back tears. The poor thing wouldn't last long in the Games if this was all she was, but Emily forced herself to doubt it; Rosa could be putting on an act to try and fool everyone.

Next up was District 8, which Emily watched without really paying attention. Caesar commented on Kaye's dramatic entrance, saying he could almost be at home in the Capitol. Emily glanced over at Kaye who was beaming in delight at that comment. She rolled her eyes at him; this was going to be a long week in the Capitol indeed. However, Emily rolled her eyes once more as she heard Caesar's comment on herself; she was a fiery redhead bursting with character and energy - the other tributes should stay away if they wanted to live. Even though she hadn't displayed any signs of who she was, the Capitol still labelled her like that. She shot a glance at Weaver, who was looking at her nervously. It would take a lot of work to change that angle to something else.

District 9 held two tributes that couldn't be further apart if they tried. The boy was a tiny twelve year old with dirty blonde hair who looked half dead by the name of Griffin. He looked like he was suffering with some illness, and even though it meant he would be less of a threat, part of Emily hoped that the Capitol would be able to do something about that. The girl, however, was completely different. She was called Dixie, and looked about seventeen. She had short-cut light brown hair, a scar across her face, and was missing part of the last two fingers on one of her hands. She seemed cocky and dangerous; Emily could see the girl trying to worm her way in with the Careers. And with the pathetic turn out of District 4, she could actually see it happening.

District 10 presented two more regular tributes. First up was a twelve year old by the name of Tavish with brown hair who looked quite scared, but seemed to be holding it together, clearly trying to not show any fear.

"Oh. My. Gosh!" Kaye exclaimed. "Isn't he the most precious thing?"

"Kaye," Emily said, "need I remind you that these people will be trying to kill us in the very near future? Don't get sentimental over your potential killer; you have no way of knowing if this kid is putting on some sort of mask for everyone." Kaye sighed at that, and fell quiet again to Emily's relief. She looked back at the screen and saw the female tribute, a sixteen year old with shoulder length black hair and lightly tanned skin by the name of Erika. She seemed to be quite well-built, and was putting on a semi-convince-able mask of indifference to her fate. A fighter. And as the screen faded out to black, Emily realised that there were only four more tributes to see, none of which would likely be anyone to be bothered about.

"And now for District Eleven!" Caesar announced with gusto. "Let's take a look at them, shall we?" The screen faded from wherever Caesar was to footage of the reaping. It cut to the exact moment when the escort selected the name of the girl; a fourteen year old with dark skin and short black hair by the name of Lucy. The poor thing looked terribly thin and frail, and that was before the gravity of the situation hit her. She joined the list of the poor tributes that Emily felt pity for, which also meant that she wouldn't pose that much of a threat.

"There sure seem to be a lot of girls around this age this year," Kaye noted, stretching.

"Luck of the draw, I guess," Weaver remarked as Caesar talked about the impression given off by Lucy.

"Can you two keep it quiet?" Emily demanded. "I won't be able to hear what Caesar says about whoever the guy is; what if he's someone with a presence?"  
"District Eleven?" Weaver said. "Em, if that's okay to call you, no offence, but Eleven's nothing special; just a bunch of malnourished kids with the occasional fighter. But whatever presence they make in the reaping doesn't carry on at all."

"Whatever," Emily sighed. "Thorburn, turn the TV up so I can hear it."

"Of course," Thorburn said, turning it up to a volume where Caesar's voice vibrated the sofa.

"Well, moving on from lovely Lucy," Caesar said. "It's time to meet our young man! A boy who definitely doesn't fit the typical appearance of District Eleven, Liam Aldair!"

Emily's blood turned to ice, and she felt herself stiffen up. No, it couldn't be... She had to have misheard it. There was no way it was _him_.

"Em, hon, you okay?" Weaver asked, noticing her change in demeanour. Emily remained silent, eyes locked on the screen as a lightly tanned young man with dark hair and a lean build climbed the stage. He raised an arm, and his shirt sleeve rolled down, revealing a tightly woven brown bracelet on his strong arm. Emily's throat filled with a lump as he shook hands with the escort. She looked at his brilliant blue eyes, seeing right into his true emotions; he was devastated. And at some point, Emily became aware of the tears rolling down her face. It couldn't be him; it shouldn't be. Not here, not now. Not like this.

"Emily?" Thorburn asked cautiously, placing a hand on her shoulder.

"Get off me!" Emily shrieked, pulling away from him. She was shaking and sobbing now, and without even giving Kaye and Weaver a glance, ran out of the room, and down the hallway into her cabin, leaving the three of them there, stunned.

"What's gotten into her?" Weaver asked Kaye, who looked hard at Liam's face. Those ruggedly handsome features... where had he seen them before?

"That's it!" he exclaimed. "Liam Aldair! I remember him!"  
"You do?" Weaver asked, confused.

"Yeah, he lived in Eight until a few years back," Kaye explained. "Up until his parents were killed in a factory explosion, and he was transferred to Eleven along with the other kids whose parents had died that day who hadn't been eligible yet for reaping. About sixty kids in total were sent away to host families across the various districts," he took a deep breath. "Liam was selected to go to Eleven along with about ten others. I remember the goodbye he shared with Emily: it was truly heartbreaking."

"And how do you know about all of this, Kaye?" Thorburn asked.

"Because my parents were also in that explosion," he replied. "I liked living in Eight, so I fled the station during the goodbyes, and lived on the streets in the poorest section of Eight until I managed to worm my way in with a very good-looking young man who owned a very big house a couple years ago. And since I now had somewhere to go to I didn't really have to leave the district."

"I see," Weaver said. "And I'm guessing that Liam and Emily were close?"

"Childhood sweethearts," Kaye said. "I was jealous."

"Of Liam?"

"You know it." Kaye let out a dry chuckle. "He was a total hottie, even back then."

"But this could pose a problem for Emily," Weaver said.

"You're right," Kaye said. "What do you suggest we do?"

"We need some way of getting to her," Weaver thought aloud. "Somehow we need to let her know that he isn't here for a reunion, and that at the end of the day, one, if not both of them will die."

Inside her cart, Emily was curled up in a ball on her bed, sobbing loudly into her pillow. This wasn't right. This could never be right. Being in the Games was bad enough, but now knowing that Liam was going in as well... Emily let out another sob. She hated everything. She hated herself for getting attached, she hated Liam for getting close to her, she hated Thorburn and 11's escort for choosing their names, and she hated the Capitol for allowing the Games to happen in the first place. It just wasn't right. It could never be right. And now that Liam was in the Games with her, Emily wasn't sure if she would be able to make it out alive at his expense. This thought continued to bounce around her head until she cried herself to sleep.


	6. Captivation

Kylee was awoken by the rumbling of the train: they had hit something on the tracks, no doubt about it. Like hell this was a smooth ride to the Capitol, as their disgusting escort had so delightfully put it. But what the hell did it matter: it was morning, which meant that they were fast approaching the Capitol. And then, oh, they would all be in for the time of their lives.

Rubbing the sleep from her eyes, Kylee crawled out of bed, the plush sheets falling from her body. She had fallen asleep wearing her reaping outfit: a white tank top with a short black skirt. Who gave a damn about fashion when it was all about who could come off the most impressionable to the Capitol. And Kylee could safely say that she had left the biggest impression on the Capitol, based on her looks alone. It was definitely a different universe entirely than the pathetic pair from District 12 on the other side of the spectrum of tributes; they were both from the impoverished side of the district, sharing black hair and olive skin. The boy was about fourteen, and the girl seventeen, if her memory served her well. Their names were Derek and Gwen, respectively, and both of them walked to the stage sobbing. Pathetic; there was a reason why District 12 never won.

To some, remembering every detail about the tributes would seem a ridiculously stupid waste of time, but Kylee was smarter than that: to truly know how to take down the competition, she had to know them inside-out first. Observe every subtle cue; every facial expression. And then, winning the Games would be a piece of cake. She would waltz into the arena, and have the other tributes wiped out in a matter of days, coming back home a celebrity. And, for the added bonus, she would have a luxurious mansion all to herself; no more resorting to providing entertaining private evenings to generous men to sustain the pile of dirt she currently called home. Oh, it would be glorious. And the look on the face of the mayor when he saw the girl he banned from entering the upper class section of District 2 becoming one of the richest citizens: it would be priceless. Kylee smiled to herself as she pulled on a pair of running shoes, tying up the laces in seconds. She walked over to the mirror on the dressing table, and brushed her thick, curled dark hair, letting it frame her perfect skin. A flawless appearance. The cameras would lap it up later today for sure.

A tapping sound reached Kylee's ears, and she snapped her head around to the silver door on the other side of her room: the escort, no doubt.

"Kylee, dear," he said in his grating Capitol accent. "Are you awake yet?"

"No, I'm in a deep sleep," she snapped back bitterly.

"Really?"

"No, you lobotomised pile of cosmetics. I'm up. I've been up for a while. And I'm coming to go get something to eat in a second, before you try and shove _that_ down my throat." A harsh silence filled the air for a brief second, allowing Kylee to apply her lipstick in peace.

"Oh, okay then." Kylee heard the sound of the escort walking away, and sighed. Were there really human beings so stupid? Evidently so. And if that was a perfect example of the average Capitol citizen, then there would be a hell of a lot of insincere sweetness thrown around over the next couple of days.

Kylee gazed into the mirror one last time, and adjusted her hair again. Finally satisfied, she walked across the room, and up to the door. One swift turn of the handle, and it swung outwards, revealing the hallway of the train. Kylee walked along the red carpet without a second thought, entering the main dining car. The table was laid out with breakfast, but as to how anyone would be able to eat that much before it started to expire was beyond her. One possibility had crossed her mind, but it was so repulsing that not even the Capitol would go there. Whatever; it wasn't as if the food really mattered that much. Although...

Swiftly and silently, Kylee approached the table, and slid into one of the chairs. She grabbed what appeared to be a chocolate, and bit into it. A delicious juice melted across her tongue, sliding down her throat, exploding with sweetness. The rest of the chocolate was gone less than five minutes later. Satisfied, Kylee looked across at the others: there were the mentors, both middle aged, one man and woman, clearly past their prime. There was the escort, drinking something with a straw, and fluttering around. And then there was Dylan, who was eating some sort of meat, grinning madly to himself.

"What's bringing all sunshine and joy to _your_ life?" Kylee asked him flatly, looking directly at him. Still smiling, Dylan looked up at Kylee. Her mouth twisted into a dark smirk as she watched his eyes widen, and his face flush and go red. He was completely wrapped around her finger. And since Dylan was clearly the Career with the most physical prowess, he would likely be elected leader of the pack this year. All Kylee had to do was manipulate Dylan, and the others would follow.

"Oh," Dylan said, faltering. "I'm just kinda excited, you know?"

"Not really," Kylee replied flatly.

"Well, I am," he continued, his eyes lighting up. "Think about it: we're going to the Capitol, and representing our district there. How can you not be overjoyed?"

"Easily," Kylee said, leaning across the table to Dylan, her lips inches from his face. "And besides, there are much better things in life than representing the crappy district we come from. C'mon, be a little selfish for once and do it for yourself." Dylan's breathing went shallow, and he flushed red once more. This was pathetically easy; he was easier to condition than a dog. No doubt Kylee would have him completely under her control by the time the Games began.

"Hey, cut it out!" Kylee snapped her head to see one of the two mentors, the woman, glaring at the two tributes with her steely grey eyes. "We don't need the two of you getting chummy like this when only one of you will be getting out alive." Damn it. This woman could easily undo her plan, Kylee realised. She had to act fast.

"But what about the whole Career alliance?" she questioned, sliding away from Dylan, winking at him as she did so. "Isn't that what pretty much guarantees our survival?"  
"Kylee has a point, you know," Dylan said. "We sort of need the alliance. And since we're in it together, why not help to make the days more bearable by getting to know each other?" Oh, he was good for a dog. Kylee had to look away at something that was dripping with grey juice to hide the grin.

"Fine," the mentor said begrudgingly. "But it's your fault when one of you is horribly broken when the other dies." Dylan nodded sternly at the fierce woman, letting her know he understood. Kylee just looked out of the window, not looking at the mentor. Kylee was already well aware that she would not be affected in the slightest at Dylan's death, which was coming. He was quite the well-built guy, but not the smartest. And as the old saying went: brains triumph over brawn in the end. Kylee was brains, and the Careers were brawn.

The train suddenly shuddered, and a noise reached Kylee's ears. It sounded like a thousand screaming voices on helium. She didn't even need to look out of the window to tell what it was: they had arrived in the Capitol. Since District 2 was the closest to the Capitol, they always arrived there first, as they had done every year but one. That was the 50th Games, when the four tributes started a fight as soon as the train had left the district. A second train full of Peacekeepers had to be deployed to control the trained killers. All of them were brainless thugs. No wonder they lost, and to a surly ass from District 12 of all places. A faint smile spread onto Kylee's face. If she was there, then she would have dominated in that arena. But she was born too late for that. It didn't matter though; an arena was an arena, regardless of the amount of tributes. And this time around, luckily, there didn't seem to be many smart tributes. Luck was really shining down on Kylee this year. Dylan turned away from the window, but before the smug grin could be seen by him, the train entered the tunnel into the main city. The darkness of the train allowed Kylee a moment to compose herself for the crowd. If she remembered, the Capitol was currently head-over-heels with the innocent girl look. Something that could easily be pulled off by the master puppeteer Kylee Harker.

Kylee walked across to the window as the city streets emerged from the darkness, revealing the rainbow of people screaming, holding banners, and generally falling in love. Kylee pressed her hands and face against the glass of the window, and smiled widely, her eyes lighting up. The screaming increased in intensity as a result. Kylee waved at them, and giggled. Even louder. A hair flick and a coy wink. And the crowd was spellbound by Kylee; she had them hanging onto their every movement. She smiled at her fans, and looked out of the window, seeing the massive golden station pulling into view. There was maybe half a minute left of crowd-pleasing, which was exactly enough time for Kylee to completely win them over. She stood back from the window, and blew several kisses. The first three rows of people fainted, silly grins plastered on their faces. Kylee chuckled to herself; too easy. Far too easy.

Suddenly, the fainting crowd vanished behind a golden wall laced with diamonds. They were now in the train station, where they would be shielded from public eye until the chariot parade later tonight. And there, yet again, Kylee would woo the crowd with her image. Her appearance was flawless, and she could alter her public personality at the drop of a hat. They would never know it was all a ruse designed to curry the favour of the sponsors; that was the beauty of the act. The genius playing the fool.

The train finally stopped, and the doors opened, revealing the massive golden station. The massive dome roof filtered shimmering sunlight through, painting everything with a glistening hue. Kylee gaped in awe at the beauty for a moment, breaking character. But she composed herself once more as she was ushered out along with Dylan, across the gorgeously painted tiled floors of the station. And as they walked along, Kylee smiled. To the others, it looked like an innocent girl captivated by the Capitol's beauty, but to Kylee, it was dark joy. She had begun spinning her web of manipulation, and it was certain that every last tribute would be ensnared by her deadly act, nobody able to see Kylee's true colours until it would be too late for them.


	7. Clashing Tastes

Kaye grimaced in horror as the plump orange woman rubbed a truly repulsive smelling cream into his hair. In the last half hour, he had endured a full body wax, despite him plucking every last hair from his body the night before the reaping; being coated in some slime that was supposed to make his skin 'shine like the sun', when in reality it made him feel like a greasy pig; and then there was the haircut. Oh dear god the haircut. They had completely shaved the sides off of his hair, only leaving the top of it, and they had added extensions to the front, making it impossible to not be in his face ninety nine percent of the time. And to make matters worse, they weren't even the same shade of brown. He was a light brown, and it wasn't as if it was a hard to distinguish tone. But the brain-dead prep team had given him ginger extensions. Freaking ginger, of all colours. Kaye now looked exactly like one of those tacky slum ravers, the ones with the putrid highlights. All of this was going against every fibre of his being, being reduced to a cheap imitation of the social group that Kaye belonged to back home.

Finally, the woman stepped back, satisfied with the amount of gunk in Kaye's butchered hair. She smiled at him, showing her disgustingly dyed teeth. They were all carved into various shapes, as well; for instance, the two front top teeth were shaped like a dog and cat. Other teeth were even odder; Kaye was sure he noticed some sort of spiral in the back. At least that explained her god-awful lisp. Combining that with the terrible accent pretty much made it impossible for Kaye to not want to punch her in the face every time those glittery cyan lips parted, and noise came out. In fact, thinking about it as he stood naked in this small room, he was pretty sure, no, certain, that his boyfriend was dead wrong about how glorious it would be to look like a Capitol citizen. Sure, maybe from a distance a couple of them were okay to look at, but then you got close, and could smell the filth on the cosmetic products they so enjoyed to lace themselves in. If there was ever a naked flame, Kaye was sure that most likely the entire Capitol would spontaneously combust. Oh, wouldn't that be a funny sight to see: disgustingly mutilated examples of high society running around as their make-up sizzled and burned them to the core. He couldn't help but let out a snicker.

"What's so funny?" another member of the prep team said: a tall woman with actual rose stalks wrapped around her arms. Pretty much every time she moved, she cut herself on them. It would be even more disgusting if it weren't for the fact that she had dyed her blood the same shade of green, and had it smell like the plant, albeit a disgustingly exaggerated chemically enhanced version of the potentially delightful aroma.

"Oh, nothing," Kaye said bitterly. "Just thinking to myself."

"Ooh, I wonder what district people actually think about?" the third member of the prep team, a man with hair made of hardened chocolate, and a coating of frost over his skin, said. "I've always been curious." He leaned on the trolley with Kaye's reaping outfit attached to it, and looked at Kaye with wide, white eyes. "Could you please enlighten us?" Kaye folded his arms, and looked at them with scrutiny. There was no way in hell these clowns could physically be allowed near a tribute; their sheer stupidity was enough to make someone punch them. At least this explained why there was always at least one wardrobe malfunction each year that created the laughing stock district for the Games; the prep teams were so incompetent.

"We're really going to do this?" he said, sighing. "I'm honestly entirely the most boring person possible, thank you very much."

"Oh, we don't believe that for one minute!" the orange one squeaked. "Your attitude at the reaping was just so Capitol!" Kaye groaned. This thing was actually fawning over him. "I fell in love straight away!"

"Dear lord," Kaye mumbled under his breath. How could anyone be so flamboyant? It was just an irritation.

"Now, now," the frost man said. "We must not waste any time! The chariot parade is in twenty minutes, and we still need to summon Luciaya!" He frantically skipped around the room, in some sort of blind panic, his strange shoes squeaking on the slick wet floor.

"Then go get her!" green blood said. He nodded fervently, and darted out of the room in a hasty hurry, leaving Kaye with the two women, who looked at him like some exotic creature. He looked back at them in the same way. But with two against one, he felt like some sort of animal on display; like a circus animal. He remembered the one time in his life that he saw a circus; it was when District 8 had their last victor. The celebrations were truly the most marvellous things Kaye had ever seen. But the strange animals in the circus really were the most awe-inspiring. They were creatures like no other, literally jumping through hoops to entertain the crowd. Kaye smiled again: not so different from the Games after all. The tributes were the animals, and the Gamemakers were the ringleaders. And if they wanted to get out alive, they would have to jump through a hell of a lot of hoops.

The door to the room swung open, revealing frost man, and a woman with the most atrocious look ever. She had crazy hair, spiked up and coloured with various clashing hues, leopard print skin, and a bubble blowing machine attached to the front of her sparkling dress.

"Hello there!" she squealed. "I'm Luciaya, your stylist!"  
"Pleasure," Kaye said dryly. Luciaya offered her hand. Kaye took a step back. "I'd prefer it if you kept your filthy hands away from me."

"Don't give me that attitude," she said sternly, before her expression returned to the stupid grin she wore when she came in, showing off bright pink teeth. "But I know you'll be overjoyed by your chariot outfit!" Luciaya grabbed the silver trolley that frost man had wheeled in, and pulled out the chariot outfit, holding it for all to see. The prep team simultaneously let out squeaks of delight. Kaye looked at it in horror.

The chariot outfit was nothing more than a unitard with a crudely-painted patchwork pattern on it, and adorned with diamonds that seemed to have been stuck with glue. It was a last minute fashion disaster; it was clear which district was going to be mocked this year. Kaye turned his head away in disgust; he'd sooner jump into an active volcano than wear that atrocity.

"Isn't it the most beautiful thing you've ever seen?" Luciaya asked enthusiastically. "Well?"  
"Honestly?" Kaye said, feeling his blood boiling. "It looks like a Mutt vomited onto cheap, tacky fabric." Luciaya's eyes grew wide, and her jaw dropped.

"Excuse me, but what?"  
"You heard me," he continued. "It is a putrid, rancid pile of filth that I wouldn't even bestow on the street urchins from District Twelve!"

"Please," Luciaya said, chuckling. "What do you know? You're a stupid kid from District Eight. You have no clue about what true fashion is!"

"You wanna bet on that?" Kaye said. "I bet that I can come up with something better than that trash bucket you call stylish."

"Fine then," Luciaya huffed, blushing furiously. "But if you don't, then you're going out there naked!"

"I'd rather that than look like something that's been through a blender," he snapped. "At least nudity will get me sponsors."

Luciaya stormed over to the corner of the room, watching Kaye with seething fury. Kaye, meanwhile grabbed the disgusting outfit with one hand; he did not want to touch it for any longer than he had to. And then, with precise hands, he plucked every last diamond off of the outfit, and tossed the fabric to the floor, stomping on it as he walked over to the second trolley, containing his reaping outfit: a hot pink suit with matching shoes and tie. Without wasting a second, he grabbed one of the adhesive creams from the shelf in the room, and used the invisible substance to glue the diamonds along the sleeves and legs of the pants. He adjusted the gems neatly, to ensure they were aligned properly, and then slid into the outfit, standing in front of the mirror. Much better. But there was one thing left to do. Kaye glanced at the horrified group of Capitol freaks, and yanked the ginger extensions out, letting them fall to the floor. His pristine pink shoe then crushed them with glee.

"There," Kaye said, glaring at Luciaya. "Now I can be presented to the world."

"But that's hideous!" she squawked. "In what way is that District Eight."

"Oh, babe, there's something you should know," Kaye said with a wry smirk. "District Eight is so three years ago."

The conversation was cut off by a pinging bell: the announcement that the stylists should bring the tributes down to the chariots now. Luciaya didn't move, glaring daggers at Kaye.

"Well, it's too late now to change what you're wearing," she said dully, "so I guess that's what you're gonna be wearing. Just don't come crying to me when you get literally zero sponsors."

"Oh, I won't," Kaye said smugly. "Now, how's about we get down there?" He winked coyly at Luciaya, who sighed, and walked across the room to the chrome wall.

"The elevator's here," she said, rolling her eyes. "Get in: you're an embarrassment."

"Because I'm really the one willing for children to parade around in rags embroidered with vomit, aren't I?" Kaye retorted, stepping through the shining doors, and into the snug compartment. There was a red carpet floor, and rich wooden walls. A relaxing, tinny version of the anthem of Panem was coming from the speaker on the roof of the elevator. A golden railing lined the walls, which Kaye gripped onto, leaning against the wall. Luciaya stepped in, and pressed one of the hundreds of buttons on the wall next to the door. A small chime rang out, and the elevator began to move down slowly. Kaye noted that the place smelled of cheap hairspray.

"It's just an elevator," Luciaya said, observing Kaye's curiosity. "Nothing to get excited over." Kaye's eyes narrowed. He could now see exactly how this next week was going to play out: it would be a battle of constant snarky quips between him and this failure of a stylist.

_Well, let the battle commence_, he though to himself as the elevator came to a stop. The doors opened, and Kaye began to step out, before turning to Luciaya, smiling sweetly.

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "That dress? It doesn't go with your hair at all, honey." He stepped out of the elevator, and looked at Luciaya's fuming face as it vanished behind the doors.

Smirking to himself, Kaye walked through the large open space full of chariots, spotting Emily on District 8's chariot. She was wearing that unholy abomination of an outfit that the stylists had coordinated on. He laughed to himself as he joined her on the chariot; at least only one of them was going to look bad this year.

"What the hell's with your getup?" Emily asked Kaye sceptically, looking over him.

"Oh, it was simple enough," Kaye said. "I destroyed the original outfit, what you're wearing, and simply modified my reaping outfit."

"And your stylist let you do that?" Emily asked harshly.

"I sort of didn't ask for permission," Kaye said. "I destroyed the outfit, and made my own. Because if there's one thing I'm going to be remembered for, it's going to be for being known as the most fashionable tribute to have ever set foot in the Capitol."


	8. Forming Bonds

Alexis stood in the elevator, opposite her stylist, a strange man with various flame decoration by the name of Solus. She folded her arms, and looked at him, her green eyes narrowing. He was a pretty aloof guy, but with the Capitol, that meant nothing. He was still as guilty as the rest of them, celebrating the deaths of twenty three kids every year without a care. It made her feel sick, thinking that these people would be watching her in the arena in a matter of days, willing for the Careers to mow her down. And from the reapings, the Career districts this year, 1 and 2 in particular, seemed especially dangerous.

The elevator came to a stop, and the door opened. Alexis stepped out, and looked at Solus.

"Aren't you coming out as well?" she asked, moving her light brown hair from her face.

"Oh, no; I'm not!" he chirped. "All the stylists this year decided to not join the tributes for the chariot parades so we can make your interview outfits to die for!"

"Okay then," Alexis said, barely unable to conceal the relief in her voice. Without a stylist present, she would be free to roam the chariots, and search for potential allies. "Well, see you then."  
"Oh!" Solus said. "Good luck!" He blew her a kiss just before the elevator shut, Solus vanishing from sight. Alexis sighed in relief, and began to walk through the large hall. The floor was a dark grey concrete, and the middle of the room was lined with horses and chariots. Each chariot had a number on it, denoting which district it belonged to. Alexis quickly found District 5's chariot, and saw Markus standing there, looking bored. He had the same outfit on as Alexis; a black jumpsuit with an atom symbol on the chest that glowed various colours. The back had another flashing symbol, this one being for a radiation hazard. It was a cheap attempt at trying to represent District 5 based solely on stereotypes from the district. Next to Markus was Maia Kentner, last year's victor, who was talking to him; Alexis couldn't make out what they were saying from here. Her father was nowhere to be seen, despite him being the other mentor for District 5. She supposed he was probably hanging around the Training Centre, or he had already taken his place in the crowd, and was trying to win sponsors; most likely he was just trying to avoid her. It was a rather unprofessional move as a mentor, but as a father, Alexis understood why entirely.

She looked away from District 5's chariot, and eyed up the other chariots with tributes. Districts 7, 9, and 10 were nowhere to be seen, but the others had their tributes on it. Districts 1, 2, and 4 were instantly crossed off Alexis' list; she wouldn't ever go near those monsters. She looked at the other end of the spectrum of tributes, seeing District 12. They both seemed to be the trusting type, but far too weak, and probably the type to crack under pressure. There was no way they could keep a secret. Alexis crossed them off her mental list as well. District 11's girl was in the same vein as 12: too wimpy to be of any use. And probably not that intelligent either, from the looks of it. The boy, however, seemed smart and capable, but he looked distracted. Alexis had seen that distracted type before in the Games; they were usually thinking about someone close to them, and something like that usually led them to their deaths. District 11 was no good either. 10 and 9 weren't there yet, so Alexis looked over to District 8. The red haired girl was leaning on the edge of the chariot, looking vacant. But there was a deadly spark behind her eyes; there was a dangerously unpredictable side to her that would most certainly cause problems. And the boy, well, Alexis was just glad she had an uncanny ability to read right through people. The entire camp, flamboyant mannerism was just an extremely clever ruse; he was dancing behind a mask which hid his sinister intentions. Alexis was surprised his district partner hadn't caught on; it was clearly obvious that no self-respecting person acted like that without an ulterior motive, and from the looks of it, he had murder in his eyes. Still, she had to give him credit for playing the role so well, even if she was convinced he would try and kill quite viciously in the Games. District 8 was also a no-go, Alexis realised dully.

District 7 wasn't there, so Alexis moved on to 6. The girl was a mess, to put it politely: she had a vacant stance that was entirely different to the other tributes like her; she was literally not thinking on the same wave-length as anyone else. That could be highly dangerous. The boy was too weak; a wimpy little kid who, unfortunately, reeked of bloodbath fodder. Another useless pair. Next on Alexis' list was supposedly her district partner, but there was no way in hell she would be anywhere near that convict of a tribute. She knew all about it; Markus had killed his own parents in cold blood, and if it weren't for the reaping, he would be getting publicly executed today. But no, getting reaped meant that he could kill even more, and then get off the hook just like that. He was a rabid animal that needed putting down, in Alexis' opinion. So a district duo was completely impossible. That only left one district currently available: District 3.

Alexis approached District 3's chariot, and looked over the pair. The boy - Xander, Alexis recalled - noticed Alexis first, and looked at her sceptically. He raised an eyebrow as Alexis drew closer. As she neared the chariot, the other tribute, Rose, and the female mentor, Elektra, also looked at Alexis. Elektra stepped forward, looking at Alexis.

"Is there something I can help you with?" she asked, looking at Alexis. Her green eyes were weary, plagued by emotion, exhaustion, and guilt. It was only to be expected though; this was her second year mentoring. She had lost both tributes in the first, and now she had her childhood best friend as tribute.

"I just want to talk to your tributes, is all," Alexis replied smoothly. "If that's okay, I mean."

"What's your motive?" Elektra asked harshly, clearly defensive of her two tributes.

"If you're insisting I'm setting up a traitorous alliance like that boy from District 11 last year," Alexis said, "then you're wrong. First off, I wouldn't be so stupid as to put on a mask in front of their mentor, and secondly, why would I waste my time coming over so early on in this whole situation if I'm planning on killing them in the bloodbath?" She held her breath as Elektra thought over what she had just said.

"Okay then," Elektra finally replied. "But I will be getting them to tell me every detail of the conversation, all right?"  
"Fine," Alexis said, and walked away from Elektra, and to the two tributes.

Rose and Xander were stood near the chariot, looking at Alexis curiously. Xander seemed confused, whilst Rose seemed apprehensive. Of course, this wall all natural for them; Alexis was a complete stranger to them who may end up being responsible for their deaths. But if Alexis had any say in it, none of them would be dying any time soon.

"Hi there," Alexis said, smiling. "I'm Alexis, from District Five." She extended a hand to shake. Neither tribute took it. She sighed. "Look, I'm not going to hurt you; Elektra over there made me give my word that I'm not setting up a betrayal."

"Okay then," Rose said, stepping forward. "Then what do you want with us?"

"I'd like to propose an alliance," Alexis said simply. "If that's okay with you, I mean."

"But why us?" Rose questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Because you're the only ones that seem smart and trustworthy enough," Alexis explained. "At least, that's my reasoning."

"Well, I'm still not certain about the arena," Xander suddenly spoke up. "But I don't see any harm in training together."

"Yeah," Rose said. "That way we can get to know each other, and then decide if it'll be a good idea to team up in the arena."

"That sounds great," Alexis said. "We'll all be able to make sure we can trust each other in there by bonding through training. Sound like a deal?" Alexis stuck out her hand again, smiling warmly at the two tributes. Rose took her hand, and shook it, returning the smile.

"Deal." Alexis went to reply, but a bell rang, and a metallic voice sounded out.

"_All tributes, please board your chariots. The parade will begin in two minutes._"

"Well, I'd better go," Alexis said, walking away. "See you tomorrow." She waved at District 3's tributes, who returned the action, before heading across the room to her own chariot.

Alexis turned past District 4's chariot, and reached District 5's. Markus was now stood on the chariot, and looking harshly at Maia. Alexis chose this moment to approach them.

"Hey," she said. "I'm back."

"And where was it you went?" Maia asked, harsher than she would have liked it to sound.

"Just made some friends, is all," Alexis said. Maia sighed at her, and flashed a weary smile at her. The same smile as Elektra, Alexis noted. And yet again, Maia was deserving of such a smile; she was in the final two of her Games with her ally turned closest friend Afya Zahirah from District 11. After an intense fight, Afya ended up killing herself so that Maia would win. Alexis had speculated a lot on why Afya did that, but never came up with a conclusive answer other than the Games had caused her to snap.

"Okay then. But you should really tell me where you're going, since I don't want to get in trouble for having you go AWOL on me." Maia's smiled changed to a more coy one, a hint of her old self, before the Games turned her into a hollow shell of a person.

"Got it," Alexis said sheepishly, before climbing up onto the chariot. Markus looked at her with a shark's grin, and took a step towards her. Alexis moved to the far side of the chariot, away from him.

"So," he said, grinning. "You managed to make friends, huh? Which district?"

"Like hell I'm gonna tell _you_," Alexis snapped back. "Knowing you, you'd just kill them on the spot as soon as we're in the Games, on top of killing me." She folded her arms, and glared harshly at Markus, attempting to assert herself as best she could. Markus just chuckled, and spread his arms wide.

"Who, little old me?" he said, grinning. "Why would I ever kill someone?"

"Just put a sock in it," Alexis said. "Oh, and do me a favour: please stay the hell away from me for the rest of your life."

"So friendship is out of the question?" Markus taunted. Alexis clenched her fists. She ignored him, though, and looked over at the other chariots. "Aw, don't be like that. I wouldn't hurt a fly!" Markus began to laugh, but the bell ringing out quickly drowned it out, followed by the metallic voice.

"_Attention: the chariot parade is about to begin. Please remain inside your chariot until the parade is finished._"

The anthem of Panem began to blare out of every speaker at once, filling the air with the patriotic tune. And at the far side of the room, the wall slid up, revealing the main street of the Capitol where the parade would take place.

"Good luck!" Maia yelled over the music as District 5's chariot pulled away. Alexis gave a thumbs-up to her mentor/friend, and looked ahead outside, grimacing. The chariot parade was the most demeaning part of the entire Games; the tributes were basically glorified dolls at the whims of their stylists for the Capitol to judge them. And, whether she liked it or not, Alexis knew this could end up getting her a sponsor that just might get her what she needed at just the right time.


	9. Charming the Crowd

Topaz grabbed the rail on the inside of the chariot as the two horses pulled the extravagantly coloured cart out into the setting sunlight of the Capitol. Normally, Topaz imagined that the clopping of the hooves would have been quite loud, but there were two other sounds that practically made everything else impossible to hear. The first was the anthem of Panem, being played by a brass band, and transmitted via far too many loudspeakers to count. And the second was the sound of the crowd: every last brightly coloured citizen of the Capitol was screaming at the top of their lungs. Combining that with the bright sun made the parade almost become a sensory overload.

She glanced to her left, at Osiris. His blonde hair was styled up in an odd manner, and he had some sort of make-up on his face that made the flesh sparkle like a jewel, pretty much like Topaz's own outfit. Her brown hair was done up in an elegant braid, and her make-up sparkled a light shade of blue in the sunlight. Their actual outfits were also different. Osiris was wearing a silk toga, embroidered with golden fabric, and sandals made of some material Topaz had never seen before. The outfit was also adorned with the gemstone of his namesake, garnets. All in all, it was an extremely stunning outfit that showed off his characteristics almost perfectly. And as per tradition, Topaz's outfit complimented her district partner's. She had a short-cut dress made of the same fabric as Osiris', and boots instead of sandals. Her dress was adorned with blue topaz gems, instead of garnets; the gem she was named for. In Topaz's opinion, they looked stunning.

"Hey, Topaz," Osiris said, pointing to the crowd that was now in front of them. "You ready?" At least, that was what Topaz imagined it to be roughly along the lines of; it was nearly impossible to hear him.

"Okay then!" she yelled back, hoping that that was what he wanted her to say. To her relief, he half-smiled, and nodded. Osiris then started smiling and waving at the adoring citizens of the Capitol, causing them to scream in a wave of delight. Topaz joined in, smiling widely, giggling, and waving. More screams came from the citizens, and then, the swarm of gifts.

It was as if it had started to rain flowers from the sky. Topaz looked up, and a genuine smile crossed her face as a mass multitude of flowers descended onto the chariot. She grabbed a white rose from the bottom of the chariot, and brought it to her nose, smelling it. It was the sweetest aroma she had ever had the fortune to encounter. And the Capitol seemed to love it. Party streamers showered down on the pair from District 1, the coloured material weaving into their hair. Topaz smiled at the crowd, and blew a kiss at them. They truly did have the audience captivated by their charm. She looked at Osiris, who was smiling to himself. He then turned to Topaz, and looked at her, grinning.

"Hey!" he yelled over the rising volume of the festivitied. "I have an idea that'll _really_ win 'em over!" Topaz watched, still smiling, as Osiris reache onto his outfit, tore a gem off, and tossed it into the crowd. At that moment, her heart splintered in two.

Osiris was doing exactly what Ebony had done last year; Topaz remembered watching it on television, smiling to herself stupidly as he threw the gems at the screaming citizens. That was one of the happiest moments of the Games, seeing Ebony turning on the charm like that. And he was doing so well throughout the Games; getting a score of ten; winning over the crowd in the interview; living until the final eight; making several perfect kills... all of that ruined by one revenge-driven boy from District 10. That had destroyed Topaz, and she was in a state of shock for days, too traumatised to even watch the critical final moments of the Games. It was just too awful.

Topaz was brought out of her emotional state by Osiris, who elbowed her in the ribs.

"Hey!" he called. "Don't space out like that; we need them to see just how great District One is!" His enthusiasm made Topaz smile to herself, a tear rolling down her face.

"Yeah," she replied, deliberately too quiet for anyone to hear. Wiping the tear away, Topaz ripped a handful of gems off of her own dress, and threw them at the crowd. As they erupted with applause, Topaz's anguish once again returned to the depths of her being, and she let the feeling of being adored take over. It did wonders for her confidence, knowing that the Capitol would be rooting for her in the arena. She glanced away from the crowd, and looked up. There were twelve huge monitors, each one showing a different district. The first one was theirs, so Topaz skipped over that, and moved on to District 2's, looking at their outfits.

Both tributes from District 2 were wearing skin-tight suits, adorned with armour. The boy, Dylan, was brandishing a sword, and looking fiercely at the crowd. They were practically swooning over him. Kylee, the girl, had taken a different approach. She had been gradually removing items of armour throughout the parade, and throwing them to the crowd, laughing and being coy with them all the while. Oh, she was good at playing up the crowd, but something about Kylee struck Topaz as different from any Career she had seen before. Perhaps it was that Kylee was more focused on selling herself than representing the district, but she had certainly piqued Topaz's interest; she made a mental note to keep an eye on her during training. With that settled, Topaz looked over at District 3.

District 3 was less impressive than 2, but it was still something to see. Their outfits were laced with cogs and gears that rotated in perfect synch, making several lights on their outfits flash different colours. Both outfits did this in unison so perfect it was as if someone was controlling every turn of every gear. The complexity was beautiful. But the tributes didn't seem to be giving off any sort of impression; they were relying on their outfits to make themselves seen. Topaz swiftly looked to the next district.

District 4's tributes were playing the crowd as well, albeit in a different way. They were the youngest Careers in a while, the boy was fifteen, and the girl fourteen. Ren and Annabell, those were their names. Ren was wearing an open-chested shirt and a pair of shorts made of scales that shimmered in the light. Annabell was wearing a fishing jacket, a vest-top, and a pair of shorts. She also held a trident and net. It was one of everyone's favourite District 4 chariot theme; fishing. Although, Topaz noted, it was the first time the girl was the fisher; normally it was the boy ensnaring the girl in the net. However, despite their young ages, the Capitol sure seemed to love them. And that could come in handy in the arena, Topaz realised. She looked away from District 4, moving on to District 5.

The two tributes from District 5 were certainly different. Their outfits were the same, both wearing black jumpsuits with glowing symbols that Topaz didn't recognise, but that was where the similarities ended. The girl carried herself with an air of quiet fury, seeming to be judging anyone that met her gaze. The boy, though, he was something else. He was looking at the crowd coldly and distantly, but there was something else there, something that Topaz saw nearly every day in Career training: the spark of murder in his eyes. It sent a chill down Topaz's spine, seeing him like this.

Districts 6 and 7 were bland as usual, wearing outfits made of tyres, and dressed as trees, respectively. It was getting old very fast, and it could was evident by the Capitol's applause growing weaker. Those four tributes were certainly not going to get sponsors based on their outfits. Topaz moved on to District 8.

What Topaz saw on that screen confused her. The girl was like any other District 8 tribute in the parade; she was wearing a colourful mess of fabric. But the boy... Topaz couldn't believe her eyes. He was wearing a bright pink suit and tie, and had diamonds attached to it that sparkled brilliantly. There was no way that that could have come from a stylist, and for a fleeting moment, Topaz wondered how he managed to get away with that outfit. But it wasn't worth her time; the outliers were only there to be killed in the long run.

The other districts were extremely boring. District 9 was a pair of grain stalks, District 10 was dressed as two different farm animals; a cow and horse, if Topaz's memory served well. District 11 was two apples in an orchard, and 12 was a pair of coal miners. Fairly disappointing, in her eyes; Topaz expected something more bold, considering this was the last Games of the sixth Coriolanian decade, and consequently the final year of the current Gamemaker team. But, it didn't really matter; Topaz was certain that District 1 had stolen the show with their stunning outfits.

Suddenly, Topaz's chariot came to a stop. She looked at Osiris, who was red in the face from entertaining the crowd. She looked ahead, and saw the other chariots coming into the inner circle of the Capitol, creating a ring of chariots, each one facing the podium at the far end. Topaz looked up there as the anthem died down, and the entire Capitol seemed to go quiet. And then, a figure emerged from a curtain on the podium: President Coriolanus Snow. He walked to the edge of the podium, and grabbed a microphone, looking over the tributes. Topaz could feel his sense of power even from down here.

"Welcome, tributes," he said, his voice booming out. Topaz looked at the Capitol citizens. They were hanging onto his every word. "Tributes, the Capitol welcomes you." Topaz began to find herself being drawn in to Snow's powerful, wise voice. "We commend you, tributes, for your honour, courage, loyalty, and sacrifice." It was the same speech delivered every year, but something about being there in person made it all the more awe-inspiring. "Happy Hunger Games, and, may the odds be ever in your favour."

For a brief moment, it was as if the world had come to a stand-still. And then, the crowd erupted into a massive applause. The anthem started up again, and the horses pulled the chariots down another road. Topaz looked up, and saw that the sun had nearly set entirely now, long shadows being cast everywhere. She suddenly yawned, the day's activities finally catching up to her. Osiris laughed at her, and Topaz shook her head wryly, feeling a warm glow inside. She looked ahead at the looming Training Centre, and smiled. Now the _real_ fun of the pre-Games would begin.


	10. Observations

Mason remained holding onto the chariot until it had entirely stopped. His face had gone pale, and he was short of breath. That had been terrifying. The chariot was higher than he had anticipated, and the horses were going much faster as well. He felt sick to his stomach just thinking about that; if there was one thing above all others Mason didn't want to encounter in the arena, it was a parade of horses and chariots. He never wanted to see any of that again in his life.

He finally managed to let go of the railing shakily when the opening to the basement of the training Centre closed, and every last horse and chariot was in place. The other tributes didn't seem as bothered by the whole ordeal as he was; some were actually smiling and laughing. The majority looked weary, though, which was to be expected. The only exception to this observation was Mason's own district partner, Salvera Combe. Something about her struck Mason as odd, but he couldn't quite put it down. It wasn't her appearance; she looked fairly normal with her light brown skin and platinum blonde hair, and she carried herself in a normal way. It was something obvious, that Mason had missed. Something that was staring him right in the face...

The noise of clopping high heels reached Mason's ears, and he turned to see their escort rushing up to them. Her green hair was a wild mess, and her pale skin was pink with exhaustion. She finally reached the chariot, and placed an arm on it for support, catching her breath.

"Sorry about this," she panted. "But I had to help deal with a potential sponsor for one of you." Mason raised an eyebrow. That was pretty good news, actually.

"Really?" he said, his voice eager. "Which one of us?"  
"But won't one of you feel bad if it's not you?" she replied. Mason shook his head.

"Okay then," she sighed. "It's Salvera, if you must know."

Mason stared at the escort with confusion, before glancing at Salvera. How in the name of Panem did she manage to catch the eye of a sponsor?

"How... nice..." Salvera suddenly spoke up, to Mason's surprise. It was here that he realised what it was; the entire time that he had been with her, Salvera hadn't uttered a single word. He adjusted his glasses, and looked over to the escort, who was equally shocked. Although, Salvera's voice was strange. It had a spacey, quiet quality to it, and she trailed off her sentences like she was questioning everything. It was strange, to say the least.

"Indeed it is, Sally!" the escort chimed. "If it's okay to call you Sally, that is." But Salvera had already spaced out again. Mason looked at her with confusion, and the escort sighed. "Hopefully we'll have made progress before you have to talk again." Even though he knew this was wrong to think, Mason realised that anyone with an interest in District 6 would be sooner drawn to himself than Salvera. Having this girl as a partner could be a help to himself. The escort cleared her throat, and continued. "Anyway, I think we should be going now! Dinner won't stay warm forever!"

The escort bounded over to the chariot, and opened the door on the side of it, which deployed a set of stairs for the two tributes to use to get down. Mason went first, quickly descending the stairs, back on the solid concrete ground. Salvera, though, didn't move for quite a while, spacing out, ignorant to the escort's cries. After about ten minutes of this, Mason looked around, realising that they were the only ones left in the basement, save for a thin young man in the corner, looking at them with wide, nervous eyes that made Mason feel unsettled, like every second spent here was the worst decision ever made. He looked back at Salvera, who still hadn't moved. He let out a sigh, unsure as to what he was feeling right now, and walked over to the chariot.

"Hey, Salvera," he called out harshly to her. "I'd appreciate it if you could come down any time _before_ the Games begin." To his surprise, Salvera turned to face him, and nodded in a slow, detached manner.

"If that's what has to happen..." She then quickly climbed down the stairs, joining Mason as they followed their escort across the basement, and to the elevator. As they stood around the silver doors, waiting for them to open, Mason took a step back from Salvera. Something clearly wasn't right with her, and it seemed to be something that Mason would benefit from avoiding. Because it just wasn't right when someone could go from being a spacey ditz to someone with a calm, intelligent air of personality. He found himself eyeing up the estranged girl with caution.

His staring was broken off by the elevator doors opening. He walked in there silently, followed by Salvera, and the escort. Mason stood in the far left corner. Salvera stood in the right corner. The escort remained at the front of the elevator, and pressed one of the buttons on the wall, which was labelled '6'. With a sudden lurch, the elevator began to move up. Mason gripped onto the railing for support, looking at Salvera. She wasn't holding onto anything, yet still seemed to be keeping her balance just fine. Like she didn't care, or didn't notice. What was she?  
"Maybe a Morphling addict...?" Mason said quietly to himself, out of anyone's earshot. But, to his surprise, when he looked up at Salvera, she was shaking her head, the movements slight, and a half smirk was on her face. A chill ran through him. How did she hear him? But she had outright told him she wasn't an addict. Well, as outright as someone like Salvera could be. Whatever it was, though, Salvera creeped Mason out. It was probably highly rude of him to be thinking like this, but he couldn't help it. Either way, regardless of the moral ambiguity of his thoughts, Mason was certain that he would never in a million years consider going into an alliance with the bizarre girl.

The elevator doors opened with a shudder, catching Mason off-guard. A brighter light flooded into the elevator from the hallway, causing him to blink several times to adjust. But as soon as he had finished doing so, the escort was already dragging the pair of them out of the elevator, and onto the rich carpeted floor.

"Well," she said. "That took slightly longer than expected. But don't worry, we'll still have plenty of time for dinner!" She did that strange little clap that seemed to be a shared trait between all escorts, and began to skip down the hallway, the carpet muffling the sound of her footsteps. Salvera followed her quickly, and Mason tagged behind, taking in this apartment. The carpet was a deep red; the Capitol's favourite colour for the tributes, it seemed, and the walls were a pure white, and adorned with lamps hanging on hooks. It created almost a magical sense of grandeur, even if Mason was the only one to notice this: it was commonplace to their escort; their mentors were Morphling addicts flung into the dangerous realm of cold turkey, and Salvera was... well, Salvera was Salvera. End of story there.

Mason followed Salvera and the escort down the hallway, and turned left, going through a pair of luxurious oak doors, complete with brass door handles. It opened up to reveal the main area of their apartment. A short flight of marble stairs led down to the large open space. The left side of the room, from looking at it from the perspective of being at the top of the stairs, contained the kitchen and dining room, separated by a long bar table, also made of of a sparklingly clean marble. The dining room consisted of a long wooden table, piled to the brim with food, most of which Mason had never seen before. There were a few things he recognised, like a roast chicken, and apples, and bread, but the rest of it was completely new to him. The far left wall of the dining room had two doors. One was white, and the other was silver. If Mason recalled everything he knew about the Games, he was pretty sure the white one was where he would go for interview prep, and the silver one was the elevator that went down to the Training Centre. That brought another question to his mind: how far down was the actual Training Centre? The chariots ended up in the basement, but the Training Centre was definitely lower than that. Perhaps it was underground? Yeah, that sounded about right.

The kitchen consisted of several worktops, cupboards, and ovens. There were currently two people in there, working away at one of the worktops: one young man and woman. The woman had dark skin and straight black hair, whilst the man had soft blonde hair and pale skin. They reminded Mason of the man back in the basement. He then remembered what they were: they were Avoxes, slaves to the Capitol. They had their tongues removed as punishment, and were forced to live the rest of their lives waiting on everyone in the Capitol. Interaction with them would result in them being executed. Mason swiftly looked away from them, and to the living room.

The living room consisted of a massive lime-green sofa in a 'U' shape around an even larger television. Currently, the highlights of the chariot parade were being shown. Mason saw the two mentors on the sofa, watching. They were both the same: motionless, with brittle hair and saggy yellow skin. They were only in their early thirties, but the Morphling drug had made them look at least three times that. The pair of them had started to get better in recent years, but last year brought them back to the drug; the tributes dying had just broken them. Mason recalled the tragic pair perfectly: Tyler Hawes, and Alanna Pyre. The two of them gradually fell in love throughout the course of the Games, becoming closer and closer, until they were hit by hallucinogenic gas. Tyler ate poisoned bread in his delirium, and Alanna dragged his dead body out of the cave they were in, unaware he was dead. After realising that, Alanna broke down into an overly emotional state, wandering the mountain/stroke volcano until coming across the alliance of Maia Kentner of District 5 and Afya Zahirah of District 11. The climax of the Games occurred soon after, and Alanna perished in the volcanic eruption, leaving Maia and Afya as the final two. Maia won, and was now the mentor for District 5 this year. But Tyler and Alanna dying had had a profound effect on the two mentors, and they simply couldn't take reality any more. Mason felt the sting of remorse just looking at them.

Mason suddenly felt something grip his hand. He looked up to see the escort holding onto both Salvera and himself as they were dragged down the stairs, their shoes making an awfully loud noise as they hit the steps. As they descended, Mason saw a miniature tyre bounce onto the tiled floor below. For a moment, he wondered where it came from, until he remembered that they were still in their chariot parade outfits. He would definitely have to get out of it before going to bed a little later tonight.

They reached the bottom of the stairs, and walked across to the dining room, not even giving the mentors a passing glance: they were pretty useless, after all. But they hadn't completely lost themselves again just yet, so hopefully they would be okay to help the tributes when it really mattered. Which, actually, was in about four days' time; they needed interview prep, and would have to rely on their mentors to succeed. Mason's hand was released when they arrived at the table. He grabbed the first seat he saw, and sat down, looking at the mountain of food.

The first thing Mason grabbed was a sweet pastry roll of sorts, but filled with chocolate. He didn't stop eating it, and quickly grabbed another. And another. In total, he managed to eat about five of them before his stomach felt like it was on the verge of exploding. He looked across the table, and saw the escort eating some kind of meat, and Salvera munching on a slice of orange. Suddenly, a yawn escaped his lips, and Mason's body began to feel heavy.

"Hey," he said. "I think I'm gonna go to bed now, if that's okay."

"Of course it's okay!" the escort said. "You know what they say, 'Early to bed, early to rise!'" Mason nodded at her, and left the table, walking up the stairs. He paused to look at the room again, and then set off down the hallway.

He didn't notice it before, but now Mason saw several doors lining the walls. Most of them he tried were locked, except for one. It was a wooden door, with a simple label attached to it: 'MALE TRIBUTE'. His room for the next few days. Cautiously, Mason pushed open the door, and stepped inside. As soon as he did so, the lights turned on, illuminating the room.

In the centre of the room was a massive bed, with huge, plush covers. There was another door to his right, that led to the bathroom; the whiteness of the room was blinding to look at. To Mason's left was a massive wardrobe, with a screen. A small smile crossed his face, and he walked over to it: he had heard about the strange wardrobes in the Capitol: all you had to do was ask it for an outfit and it would give you it. Mason's smile turned into a grin. It wouldn't hurt to try, would it?

Mason quickly stripped out of his chariot outfit, standing in just his underwear. He then walked over to the screen, and pressed a button on it. Some text appeared, 'PLEASE SPEAK YOUR COMMANDS'. Mason cleared his throat, and spoke.

"I would like something comfortable to sleep in, if that's okay," he said. A beep rang out, followed by the wardrobe opening. And then, some fabric shot out, landing perfectly on the bed. Another beep, and the wardrobe shut again, the screen switching off.

Mason grabbed the outfit, and looked over it. It was a thin, light blue t-shirt with a matching pair of shorts. He slipped them on, and walked over to the bed. He took off his glasses, setting them down on the bed-side desk. He pulled back the covers, and slipped into bed. To his surprise, as soon as he did so, the lights turned out.

For a while, Mason just laid there, drifting off, until an anxious thought hit him: would he survive as long as the male from last year, Tyler, did? The only way that Tyler survived, as far as Mason was concerned, was that he got into an alliance with his extremely smart district partner, Alanna. Of course, Mason couldn't really get into an alliance with Salvera, but he needed someone if he were to survive: he was just a scrawny thirteen year old with no survival skills what-so-ever. But who would be willing to work with him during the Games? Mason yawned loudly, and stretched his body, feeling sleep gripping onto him. That was what he would do: training would be for finding someone to work together with to survive in the arena. He probably wouldn't make it past the bloodbath, in reality, but still, the idea that he would have someone to watch his back would be a comfortable one.

These thoughts still churned in Mason's head as he drifted off to a heavy, dreamless sleep.


End file.
